


Hazel

by wateringhole



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Abstract thoughts, And needs her squishies, Blind Inquisitor, Breaking the Fourth Wall, By which I mean I haven't planned a damn thing, Cassandra is a cranky pants, Concept Art Solas (Dragon Age), Disabled Inquisitor (Dragon Age), Dom Solas (Dragon Age), Don't Examine This Too Closely, Dorian is Demisexual, Everyone Is Gay, Everything may change, F/F, F/M, Genderbending, Genderfluid Inquisitor, Haven't gotten the multifandom shit settled yet, Healer Anders (Dragon Age), Healer Inquisitor (Dragon Age), I hope she's not a mary sue, Inky is a cinnamon bun, Inquisitor is a ho, Inquisitor is dense, Just Be Nice About Everyone, M/M, Mage Inquisitor (Dragon Age), Mass Effect - Freeform, May or may not be porn, Maybe there will be a plot eventually, Mention of previous rape/non-con, Middle Earth, Modern Girl In Thedas...sort of, Multi, Multiple Crossovers, My First Work in This Fandom, No Plot/Plotless, Not Canon Compliant, Other, Otherworld travel, Poly Travel Camp Bundle Woo, Polyamorous Inquisitor (Dragon Age), Polyamory, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pro Anders fic, Pro Everyone Fic, Pro Fenris Fic, Pro Solas Fic, Ratings may change, Rivalmance (Dragon Age), Self-Indulgent, Slow Burn, Tags May Change, Undefined Female Inquisitor (Dragon Age), making it up as I go, what the fuck is happening, whatever, who knows - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:01:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 28,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23515867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wateringhole/pseuds/wateringhole
Summary: Edit: I had about 200k words written down for this, and several outlines, and then my computer ate it. So this is suspended until further notice while I work on another fic that is hopefully better quality than this one.I have no idea where this came from. I just started typing, and it sounded like a great idea. So there we go! I'm writing this for me, it's not beta read, nor is there an intended plot. I'm just seeing where it goes. It's kind of a test thing for me, see what I can do when I let myself fart out words instead of obsessing over them, which invariably has resulted in me abandoning the fic. Poly gayness abounds, hooray? Unless the characters write themselves different.Also, if you read this, then be aware that it assumes you've played the games.I'm aware of the tense issues. Not likely to fix em...and also, I am largely glossing over major events except in cases where things happen differently enough that I feel like writing em out. I'm not gonna force myself to get shit out.
Relationships: Anders/Male Hawke, Anders/Male Hawke/Inquisitor, Fen'Harel/Inquisitor, Fenris/Inquisitor (Dragon Age), Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford, Inquisitor/Dorian Pavus, Inquisitor/Solas (Dragon Age), Inquisitor/Who The Fuck Knows, Zevran Arainai/Inquisitor
Kudos: 15





	1. What The Fuck

**Author's Note:**

> I find translating things too stressful, so I opt for the symbol "*/*" to indicate someone's native language. Elvhen for Solas, Antivan for Zevran or Josephine, Orlesian for Leliana, Gaelic/Scottish for Sebastian, Irish/Gaelige for anyone from Northern Ferelden/Southern Marches (headcanon), etc. If you wanna know what someone's native language is, ask and I'll edit it or tell you. I'm not gonna stress about translating anything PREEMPTIVELY other than what I can easily do and want to. After the fact, sure, if I can, but preemptively...nah.
> 
> Also, I somehow lost all the relationships, characters, and tags I put in, so I'll have to change those over time. Ugh. 
> 
> I already asked for input from a couple non-sighted people to make sure that as a sighted individual I'm doing the community justice. One is beta-reading it specifically for that content, and the other I spoke with. I'm part of the LGBTQ+, BDSM, and polyamorous communities IRL, but if there's any input about that, do feel free to let me know. I'm writing for me, so I'm less concerned with all the normal writing details and structure, but I'd like to be accurate with representation of the communities here. 
> 
> I promise I'm usually a very nice person, lol, I just have OPINIONS about this fic. Apparently I'm very invested in it.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abstract thoughts due to the implication of torture, semi-lucidity, and the state of being before Solas stabilizes the mark. Lots of confusion and holes that will be resolved later, whether promptly or not. Inky wakes up uncomfortable and confused, and then she ends up in the Fade confused and talking to the wolf.

She opened her eyes to her own screaming. What was that? Lightning? It felt like one of the Goa’uld torture devices. It smells damp. Dripping? Everything is blurry. Someone is angry. What does she want from me? Strong. Angry. Cassandra? Maybe. Unsure.

Another prod of sharp cold steel. More lightning. More pain. More screams. She barely recognizes pain, but her body clearly does. More angry questions. Is this torture? Am I being interrogated? I? Oh. It's me. She's me. Oh. Over what? I don’t understand. Flash of magic. Left hand. Oh no. Another? But I thought endcap was the last. Is this a parallel reality I’d already had? Is this their past? It might be. Narrows options.

Head lolls sideways. Panting. “Solas.” She says it with command. Someone leaves. Someone enters. I hear a voice. Comforting. Warm. But not right now. He’s stern. Work mode. “Cullen? Is that you, my love? Why is this happening?” He starts. “Do you know her?” Woman is uncertain, still terse. “NO.” Can feel raised hands, still can’t see. He doesn’t know me. I deflate. More proof that this is an alternate reality. Clearly not the one I read about, though I felt through too. That seemed less direct. More fluid. Not this. This is too real.

Can think. Dazed, but can think. Good sign. Stupid chainmail. Stupid cat. GET OFF. Oops. Must be thinking aloud. They look at me oddly. Huh.

I feel his magic first. I see him second. “Solas?” He stiffens. “*/*Can you tell me what’s happening, vhenan? Please?” He pales. I am less rational with him. I am unsure what I tell him, but it’s punctuated with “vhenan”. I need the word. Feels real. Anchors to the one I’m sprawled on.

I put the child to bed. Still talking aloud. They listen. Shocked. They probably think I’m a demon. Or delirious. Or in some other way insane. I start writing, to remember. They listen. They’re still stunned. I don’t know what is in their heads about it, they’re too incredulous to speak.

I’m let down. Gently, surprisingly. Someone carries me to somewhere. It’s soft. I don’t know why. “Why can’t I see? What’s wrong with my hand? It shouldn’t spark. What’s happening? My spine is fire. I don’t understand…can’t breathe.” Questions are deflected with gentle words. I get no answers. I’m not lucid enough to understand. They hear “Diamond Heart” as I mutter the words and the music fills my mind.

I drift in the Fade. This place is not mine. This isn’t the garden. It’s green and ragged. I can guess what it’s near. Stay away from the magnet, don’t fall through the Breach, breaks physics, don’t fall in the Breach….good, water. Disgusting, but it’s there. It’s an anchor. I can clean it. I can guess what this is. I can guess what happened…but not well. It feels different. It feels too different. How do I cope? How do I figure it out? Must I do this the long way? So confused.

If I do it the long way, will I be allowed to write? Will they let me? I’m not sure. I hope so. It helps to write. Makes it real. Lets me revisit. Lets me remember. Can I write? If I write, will I forget the rest? Will I be able to keep connected to the others? I hope so.

I fill my dreams with music. I make magic that echoes the flow. I clear the area that I was dropped in. If I am to return here, it will not be of nightmares. Not what I can control. I get enough of them.

I spot the wolf through the edges. “Hello, Fen’harel.” He starts, and he’s suddenly much bigger, bearing down on me with gaping jaws. “Really, vhenan? Rancid meat breath? It doesn’t suit you.” In response he says nothing, just chomps…not entirely through. But it hurts.

“You’re going to kill me? You have to get this back. I’m still of use to you. I won’t tell them. If you don’t tell them my secrets before I’m ready, I won’t tell them yours.”  
He shifts back to elf, wary, but walks into my music. “You should not be so..exuberant. It will draw demons.”

I shrug. “More likely it will draw my friends. I’m accustomed to the attention of demons. They won’t touch me. They know better.”

He is clearly dubious.

“Have you seen any thus far?” I quirk an eyebrow.

“….No.” He sounds surprised.

“My magic is not subtle. If they were going to come, they would have. Be still. I need this to try and…” I am frustrated. It is on my face.

He tilts his head, brow furrowed. “What do you remember?” Is that concern? Or just curiosity? He should have named himself that, I think.

“Of this world? Nothing. Nothing at all. I woke up to pain. That is what I know. I know your magic. That is the ONLY thing I know-I didn’t even know your name for sure, until I heard the woman speak it, and then when you reacted to the old one. It was a guess. And a guess born of comparison.”

He blinks, and is silent for a time, clearly surprised.

“…You have been to other worlds?” He is stunned.

“Did we try and achieve that in Arlathan in this one? I cannot remember…some succeeded, some didn’t..of course you’re stunned. I…yes. I am FROM one. Which…I assume that like Endcap…I think your orb must have killed me. Former…me…” I flex my fingers, rub my hand. “This feels…like me? But…” I conjure a mirror, and look, confused.

I see auburn hair, wavy and thick, difficult to tame. Large almond eyes, deep chocolate brown. I peer closer, see freckles on the cheeks. Full lips-of course they are. My skin is darker than I expected. My entire being reminds me of earth. I suspect there’s gold highlights to everything, in the sun. My ears are much larger than expected. Slightly irritating, but such is as it is. I expand the mirror, evaluate my form. Slim, much slimmer than in Endcap, but not…stick thin. I have a figure. I expect that but for being fit from being a hunter-I clearly have vallaslin, Mythals, of course, that’s a relief at least-I would be curvier. That’s kind.

I look back at him. “This does not look like me. So I suspect that the spirits pulled me here, like there, to give me more form…give me…something. I was distressed…the form they gave me was perfect, a reflection of my spirit, but not enough, and I worried about killing it. Thus…here. And it gives the rest of you hope.

He is patient. Accepts I take my time processing things. I wonder if he knows it’s because I’m typing it. Probably also needing the time to process, himself.

“As soon as I know enough, I need you to remove the marks. I can’t…" Involuntary shudder. "I’ve been a slave long enough. But it must have the appropriate timing. …Please.” It’s the first time that I get enough emotion behind something to feel less drifty. I look at him, it’s a bit of pleading and fear. I can feel it on my face.

He’s surprised. “You were a slave?” His tone is mixed with a growl.

I yelp. Cats knocked something over, and I startle and look over my shoulder. Ready a spell before I think. Relax when I realize it’s the wrong world. Irritation.

“I don’t want to talk about it. But yes.” My tone shuts down all argument. He says something, pushes, but I ignore. Irritation from him. I ignore that too.

“Yes.” He says it as if he’s been repeating it.

I look at him, confused. I blink. “What?”

His face softens. “I said, yes. I will remove them. When it is time.”

Another song comes on the playlist. Relief. He looks at me curiously. Move your body, Sia. Power song for now.  
I write the lyrics in the air. Wrong alphabet. I switch. He blushes. Must be raunchy for him.

“I like this song. Gives me energy. Not sure why.” I rub my forehead. Losing grasp of the grass and trees. It’s not Rivendell anymore. It’s green and angry again. Knees in changing grass. “Why can’t I think?” Words are faint. Can’t hear his answer. He catches me as I fall.

Black in and out. Feel seizures. Full body, mostly not from connection. Connection just because anchor, need tie. He feels the draw, subtly feeds mana. The seizures from lower back stop. Now just the ones from whatever’s happening to that body. I am held and restrained. I whimper. Pain.

I forgot to tell him I don’t know if I’m a mage there.

Dazed. Drift now. Aravfiel. Sleep. He’s afraid. So am I. Can’t lose him. Fixture now.

Can feel sweat. No…no, I wanted sleep. Cry in mind. Bleary. See warm wood. Look to desk. See man sitting at it.

Can’t tell who. Stare. Can’t blink, can’t stop staring at wall. Frozen. They think I’m dead. Try and breathe. Cough. Yell from man. Curl up in fetal position. Hurt. Cold. Sweat again. This mark is strong. POSITIVE I had spirit help to avoid dying.

I try to speak. Fail. Manage to wheeze. “Sleep.” Comes out “seep”. He understands. I finally get rest…between spasms in left arm. I feel them all the way in the shoulder. He must stabilize it soon. Spiderwebs of green along skin. I can see them. Can they? Need time for regeneration to contain. Finally sinks to black. Thank the gods.


	2. Boredom Monologues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shitty writing! Monologues! The protagonist breaks the fourth wall and talks about herself! Because she's really bored! And asleep! Solas should be more careful with his sleep spells.

Boredom.

Boredom boredom boredom. Blackness and boredom. While I appreciate the fact that Solas-Solas, that…IS his name, yes? I’ll have to make sure-managed to get me to sleep a lovely dreamless sleep, I am now bored. Nothing good happens when I’m bored. Likewise, he-or his spell?-is not letting me drift to any of my other worlds. Arda seems the closest…perhaps I can drift to Rivendell. Hrm. No? I suspect he’s not paying attention…how far IS he? Did he leave?  
  


I sigh. Heavily. HEAVILY, DO YOU HEAR ME SOLA-no, he wouldn’t hear, or he’d have picked up on the chatter. Well, while I’m playing with fake Morse Code (I don’t actually speak it), perhaps I can fill in all the confusion I left from before, since clearly my thoughts are outlining themselves ON A PAGE. Odd. So odd.

I have no idea what my name is. I’ve gone by a few, depending on what world I’m in, but in THIS one…I have no idea. Let’s go with Hazel, for now, since it seems my entire physical color scheme is hazel. Am I a Lavellan? No idea there either. Could be from ANY given Clan. Who the fuck knows. 

  
So, first thing’s first. I’ve played the game. I know all about the canon plot, and all that jazz, but considering the format I’ll avoid summarizing anything preemptively. I’d guess that Angry Lady is Cassandra, Solas being Fen’Harel means what people think it does (I’ve played Trespasser, had my heart broken by the pixelated bastard, etc), Cullen is the Commander (he better be, all the fur I smelled)-no, don’t wake me up yet, Solas, I have more monologuing to do, I’ll give you the thumbs up for it, just stall or something. I’m wondering if Leliana was in there just being her normal ninja self. It’s not exactly like I was lucid. Maybe she was doing the zapping. Who knows?

I’m a little apprehensive. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what a painful left hand with spider webby green up the arm means. And apparently I had enough brains to figure it out even when half lucid with it all. Fabulous.

So, let me summarize here. I know it’s bad writing form, but I just don’t give a fuck. I’d rather lay out all the basics here and maybe remind you about them-GODDAMN IT CHILD (sorry, I’ve got kids, and one in particular is problematic for actually getting this down in real time). Anyway. Maybe I can remind you about them along the way if I need to. It’s not like I have anyone else to talk to.

My life is a bit complicated. I’m pagan, and I’ve got a complicated view of the multiverse. In short, everything that anyone has ever imagined, every choice that could ever have been made in any of those places, imagined or otherwise, exists somewhere. Infinite parallels don’t just exist of the physical world, they exist of ALL OF THEM, even ones that most people think are fiction. Cool, huh? Well, it is! Better than the shitty life I’ve had up until paganism gave me a goddamned reason to live, I tell you that much.

Until you find yourself dragged all over the goddamned verse because after enough training and trial and error and attempts to survive, and also after enough memory work (you know, meditate, seek out past lives, explore them, etc), it turns out you’re actually a pretty damned good healer, you’re pretty damned good in a fight, you’ve got a talent with magic, and you’re so easily bored, so old, and so good at working in multiple places at once that you have too many hobbies. ADHD and perfectionism are a curse. If I never see another Reaper War in my life it’ll be too soon, no matter how much I love Garrus. And I never again want to even catch a GLIMPSE of Morgoth, though…I’m not gonna lie, Arda’s one of my favorites. And Mune’s pretty amazing as well…if full of drama and politics. Not much different than here…anyway.

I’ve had some lifetimes in a few parallels of Thedas. That’s where my confusion of Solas and Cullen being significant others of mine came from. Also my familiarity with demons (I’m a Dreamer, I guess? It’s always been easy). They’re familiar enough to confuse me. Oops? Solas is familiar though. Interesting. Wouldn’t be the first time that I’d lived in Arlathan, and I have some of the old magic, I guess…Huh. Well, we’ll see. I’ve at least got Ara interested in watching how this goes. He’s my soul twin, and a fixture in my life.

Let’s hope my being a Seer doesn’t travel over. Everyone thinks it’s about seeing the future, but it’s about seeing what other people can’t. Whatever that happens to mean. It’s actually a pain. A useful pain, but a pain. Magic turned my ass into a walking Mary Sue. Guess that means this will be shitty for a lot of people to read, huh? Maybe I WON’T turn out to be one here. That’d be cool. No more pedestals for me! Except the one regarding the GLOWING MARK OF DEATH…right. Glowing mark of death. Sigh.

What the hell do I tell them? I don’t know how anything is going to work out. It feels so different already from anywhere else. If I’m not careful, then I’ll confuse this place with canon, and then, you know, rocks fall, everyone dies. I guess I’ll take my cues from them.

  
  
GOD. LOCH. MY FOOT IS NOT A SEE SAW.

  
  
Okay.  
  
  


Solas, anytime.


	3. Oh Shit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Interrogation and confusion. I may have gotten a bit verbose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PTSD warning? It's not overly severe, by my standards, but opinions may differ.

I’ve been playing with Loch. He likes to “play swords”. Whap whap whap. He uses the borders to those foam playmats as “swords”. Of course he does, he’s only three. For a minute I think they can hear what’s going on, or see it-but then I realize that I’m actually…play acting it. As in, the actions and words mirror on both sides.

  
  
Well. That’s embarrassing. And probably not really the best thing for my survival. I sigh, internally. Again.

_Why?_ Soft, androgynous, inquiring voice in my head. Shit, am I a spirit healer? I’m a bit stunned for a second. Then I tell them, “USUALLY, most people don’t react well to inexplicable, uncontrolled miming. It’s a great way to get me looked at like I’m _entirely insane_ , or an abomination, assuming I’m a mage. Not…the best…idea.” Maybe I can explain it with sleepwalking? Sleep talking? Not like I can explain what I’m dreaming about…  
  
  


A pause. _Oh_. And then she-They? They-retreats a bit. I offer a push of emotion-gratitude, apology, and _please don’t leave me alone just yet_. They’ve been kind. They might be why I’m alive. I’d like someone at my back. They feel pleased, and linger just at the back of my mind. I wonder if they have a room next door to Delek’s. The thought makes me smile-and of course, then I wonder if Delek made it there with me. I quash that thought- _no_ time for that yet! If she’s here, she’s here, and if she’s not, she’s not.

Now, I need to get control over the duality of things. Let’s see if I can actually-DAMN IT LOCH-manage to get over my shyness and stagefright enough to wake up…alright, those are fingers. That’s a groan of discomfort…okay, that’s definitely a messed up voice, no singing with THAT for a while…no. I can’t. My body is too weak. And definitely not in whatever nice room had warm wood anymore. This is the place I was at first. Shackles and pain and wet and damp, and…I shudder.  
  
Someone with a deep voice calls out to someone else, and I’m given some water. I promptly cough, and my stomach tries to reject it. Whoever it is has surprisingly gentle hands, with delicate, dexterous fingers. _They can’t have just changed their minds. I’m chained up! And woozy! Ugh! They must REALLY want me alive_ , I think to myself.  
  


  
 _They do_ , says my internal companion.

_Do you have a name?_ , I ask, desperately seeking a distraction from the pain and nausea. But whatever they’ve given me-is that really just water?-is finally helping me to wake. “It’s working!”, I hear a gentleman say-was that Cullen again?-and I blink slowly. I don’t stay entirely awake, though, so my internal companion responds, softly. _Virtue_.

  
  
I’m surprised. _Virtue? As in…just virtue? I’m not going to lie, I expected like…a NAME name. Like Imshael’s._

They chuckle. _But what you need is me_. _Perhaps I’ll trade places with another, if you like, if you need someone else instead._  
  
  
“Come on, don’t die…” I hear a muttered, and worried, voice say.  
  
  


It IS a struggle to breathe. “Can…can I use magic?” I manage to croak out. The response is palpable surprise. Oh, so my empathic abilities are intact, at least. “…Can you not?”, asks a male voice, clearly misunderstanding the intent of the question, but I am too drained to correct them, so I attempt to shrug my shoulder slightly. It likely doesn’t do much. “I do not know. I can’t remember.”  
  
  
There is a pause, and a nod I feel more than see-I wonder if my eyes are open, for I can only rarely see, but that’s short lived. I summon what I remember from my world. Magic isn’t the same there, but I’ve managed enough to accentuate normal medicine if needed. I figure, perhaps it works better here?  
  
  
The reaction is gasps from them…and forceful vomiting from me. I’m not sure what came up, but I feel _immediately_ better _._ Not cured by any means, but…better. I’m panting, my vision is still only glitchy at best, but…I can breathe.  
  
  
“I’m sorry. I didn’t…mean to cause any harm.” My voice is quiet, if haggard. And it was clearly the wrong thing to say. Angry lady marches back up.  
  
  
“Didn’t mean to cause any harm?!” She’s incredulous, still angry. “Half of the mountain is GONE! All who were on it are DEAD!”  
  
  
I feel myself pale. “I…what?” My voice breaks, is barely audible.  
  
  
“What did you DO?” She’s screaming in my ears, and they’re ringing.  
  
  
“I…I don’t…I don’t remember doing anything! I don’t remember _anything_ , just waking up to lightning and screaming!” I’m hyperventilating, afraid, but I can’t help it, can’t hide it either. Clearly, someone else noticed it, because I feel someone else stride forward. I swing my head towards them, whimpering.  
  
  
“Cassandra. Enough.” A quiet, fluid voice stops her. I hope that’s Leliana. Or maybe I don’t…she doesn’t know me. She’s not safe…yet. At all?  
  
  
It’s enough to quiet Cassandra. I suspect Leliana tried to inquire about something else, but I’m not registering what she is saying. I feel a sigh, and she turns to someone else. I catch the name “Solas” again, and then I am given more space. I can calm down IMMEDIATELY…evidently I am much more easily overwhelmed by energy. I need to work on my shields. Valar, I hate PTSD and claustrophobia.

“…Is anyone there?”, I venture.  
  
  
“Yes. What is it?” Speaking tenor, not quite a baritone. Formal, English…no, Ferelden, this is Thedas. That MIGHT be Cullen…I hear his few footsteps to come closeby, and feel his hand settle on the hilt of his sword. Not drawn then. That’s surprising. But that’s definitely Cullen.  
  
  
“Are you Cullen?”  
  
  
I sense his frown, and nod. “Yes. What do you need?”  
  
  
“Are you in the light?” I feel another frown, and some alarm.

  
“…Yes. Can you not see me?”  
  
  
“Not at all.” I was quiet, a bit sad. “That’s what I was afraid of. When you-I think it was you?-were close enough, I could see the vague shape of your face. And the color of your hair. But nothing more.”  
  
  
I could feel the concern. And the nod, before he remembered, swore softly. “I see. Well. That could be a problem.”  
  
  


I laughed. “I’m chained up! How could that be a problem for _you_?” It was not unkind, but I felt him wince anyway.  
  
  
“I…am not the best person to tell you this. We should wait for Lady Cassandra to arrive with Solas.”  
  
  
I sighed, but nodded, then blinked. “Wait, is it just you in here? I cannot sense any others.”  
  
  
He chuckled. “No. There are some others. Save your questions, they will be here soon.”  
  
  
 _Odd. He didn’t seem fazed at all that I could sense the others._ I filed that information away for later, and opted to doze again. _It’s hard to do this without a living tie. Wouldn’t it be weird if it was Cullen?_ I chuckled to myself, earning an eyebrow from the aforementioned man, and an unexpected smile from my often-silent headmate. _Not really_ , they said.

\-----------

“Is she ready to answer?” I distantly heard Cassandra’s voice, Valar knows how long later.

“She is asleep,” replied Cullen softly, in a voice clearly designed to prompt quiet and to delay.  
  
  
I groaned. “I was.” I blinked, opening my eyes, for what little purpose it served, and turned my ear towards Cassandra, while looking towards the ceiling.

“What…is she doing?” She was unnerved, it echoed plainly in her tone.  
  
  
“She is blind.” Cullen’s reply was nigh inaudible. I heard a soft gasp from Leliana-she had left as well, then-and a snarl from Cassandra.  
  
  
“Can you let me down? The iron is burning-“ Her fist connected with my face before I could think. I collapsed against the force, weeping, and immediately aware of the sounds of a tussle. “Let me GO!” Cassandra was obviously the one being restrained.  
  
  
“Cassandra, ENOUGH! Look at her! She clearly could not have done this!” Leliana had my side? The surprise and hope I felt was likely evident on my face. _I’m so shit at schooling my expressions, fuck_ … _OOF!_ My thoughts were cut off by a hard boot connecting with my abdomen. Cassandra had broken free and resumed her rather violent exploration of my face and torso, it seemed. And I couldn’t seem to stop the crying. _WHY do I do that so much here?! VALAR that needs to stop. No. Just no._ I felt the familiar creep of a flashback blackout creeping around the edges of my mind.  
  


  
It lasted what felt like seconds. _I really wish that would stop happening. I need to stay awake_. Tension edged my thoughts.  
  
  
 _Patience_ , said Virtue. _He will be here soon_.  
  
  
 _Who, Solas? Wasn’t he ALREADY HERE?_ Impatience, now. Virtue didn’t respond.  
  
  
“Da len.” I started at the sound of what must have been Solas’ voice.  
  
  
“Solas?”  
  
  
“Yes.” His voice was designed to be soothing, pitying, like one was with a child. It pissed me off.  
  
  
“Take me out of the iron. _Please_. It burns my wrists.” My anger could wait. That shit is _hell_.

I felt surprise, then I feel him look to someone else in the room in inquiry. “Ma nuvenin,” is all he says aloud. I feel the keys in the locks, and stifle a scream as skin pulls away with the shackles. There is horrified silence, and Solas catches me with one arm before I can fall, simultaneously channeling healing magic into the loose wrist with the other. It’s embarrassing, but I cannot control the reflex and plant my face in his shoulder when the other one is done. The pain is _incredible_. I have to stay like that and reel for a moment before I can manage not to faint. I feel the silent inquiry and nod, and he helps me to sit.  
  
  
“I am sorry,” is his quiet response.  
  
  
“It’s not the kind of thing one tends to look for,” I reply wryly. “Thank you for healing them.”

“*/*You are welcome.” I feel both his surprise and his slight smile.  
  
  
I sigh, wanting out of this shithole. I need to smell TREES and EARTH and WIND and…NOT MOLD. Not this smell forever associated with torture. “Let me guess. I’m less afraid of you than I am of Cassandra, who’s super pissed and wants primarily to kill me because she has anger management issues, ditto with Cullen, so you two are gonna ask me questions nice style so that I can try and answer them at all, while Leliana lurks in the shadows?” I offer a half smile to show I don’t blame him for it.  
  
  
He offers a wry chuckle. “That is the gist of it, yes. What do you remember?” He ignores the conversation we had in the Fade, for which I am grateful.  
  
  
“Nothing whatsoever besides the lightning and torture to which I awakened. I remember NOTHING. Not what I am-I couldn’t touch my ears to check. Not who I am. Not where I’m from. _Nothing_. Except, apparently, Cullen’s name. And something positive connected with yours, once I heard it. Was Leliana’s spoken? If not, hers as well. I had no idea who Cassandra was until told.” I could FEEL the doubt even as I spoke the words. “I am unsure what you expect of me.”  
  
  
He sighed, but it was Cullen who spoke. “What do you know of the explosion of the mountain?” Gone was the kindness from his voice, and I flinched, immediately cursing the reacting internally.  
  


  
“Nothing. I realize it’s not an answer that does much for my extended lifespan, and you probably all think I’m batshit if I’ve been sleeptalking, and/or a liar because I know anyone’s names.” My tone reflects my exhaustion, and I sway, still seated on the floor. Solas’ hand, soft but firm, steadies me by the shoulder.  
  
  
“Can you explain it at all?” His tone is soft.

  
“Any explanation I give would condemn me further. I don’t really believe that you’re looking for reasons to keep me alive. Are you kidding? If you have me chained up in this big ass echoey space smelling of mold, then I’m alone, and if I’m alone, it means I’m the only suspect you have, which means you’ve already decided I’m guilty and want me to admit to it so you have an excuse to kill me. Why go through this charade if you’ve already decided to kill me?” I slump, defeated, futile, and shrug. I feel them exchange looks.  
  
  
“Come.” Solas’ voice is quiet, and he helps me to my feet. Cloth is wrapped around my wrists to protect the raw tissue-he must have been drained of mana for that to happen, they should have healed over. Rope was crossed over that. I scoffed, very quietly. “It is for your protection,” said Solas, quiet enough only I could hear. I rolled my eyes, but nodded. +  
  
  
I wait when he made to move away, hesitant. I feel the inquiry. “Solas…am I a mage?” He blinks rapidly, remembering our exchange in the Fade. I hope like hell he isn’t like one of those nasty Dark Solases ™ like in some fanfics, because holy shit was I setting myself up for disaster if he is. “You truly do not know?”  
  
  
I shook my head. “No, and I don’t dare experiment by trying to summon magic. If I am, then I have no way of knowing how it will respond. I don’t want to hurt anyone. Not like anyone will believe me,” I added under my breath.  
  
  
Cullen chuckled. “You have done much to prove that with those words alone,” he said, his voice rich with amusement and tinged with some respect. _Talk about mood swings_. His tone changed on a dime. Either that, or he’s way better an actor than in canon. Or way more comfortable with mages? Ugh, I hate not knowing things!  
  
  
I felt Solas repress his eyeroll. “You are a mage, da’len. You will need to be trained. Raw magic is dangerous.”  
  


  
 _Little shit_. I repressed the urge to hit him upside the head. He knew full well I knew at least SOMETHING about magic, from what he saw in the Fade. _I bet you he thinks I’m lying and he’s trying to bait me into admitting it._ Virtue’s soft chuckle was the only reply I had.

“Come,” Solas repeated. He led me out of the room, softly warning me whenever we came to obstacles…like stairs. I could feel the sun on my face and reflexively squinted against it. I felt Solas peer curiously at me, and I muttered, “I wasn’t blind until recently. It’s habit.” He winced, but said nothing, just gently turned my chin upwards.  
  
  
“Can you see it?” His voice was calm, betraying no motive. _Must be being watched. Mister Wolfy Noble._  
  
  
“In a manner of speaking. Nothing of what I’m digesting is…visual. Which is frustrating. It feels like a whirlpool looks.” _If he wants to be cryptic, so can I be._  
  
  
I felt his nod. “Indeed. That is the Breach. That is what happened after the explosion that took out half a mountain.”  
  
  
I gaped at him. “I beg your fucking pardon? An explosion? Took out a MOUNTAIN. Are you shitting me?”  
  
  
“Not remotely,” said Cullen, quiet but serious.  
  
  
I took a shaky breath, reflexively leaning on Solas for stability. _If I could see my hit point bar, it’d be halfway up at best. This is balls._ “Was…how many…”  
  
  
“Too many.” Cullen was even quieter. I couldn’t speak. I could feel tears. I was still shocked that Leliana had at all trusted that my reactions were genuine, because _rogue_ and _bard_ , but…so much death. And with half a mountain _exploded_ , then…there must have been even more lost when the debris fell.  
  
  
“Valar,” I whispered. Solas looked at me oddly but said nothing. “What…what can I do? I’m still weak, I don’t know if magic works the way I think it does, I don’t know if _anything_ works the way I think it does, I CLEARLY have post traumatic stress issues…but…what can I do?”  
  
  
A strong sense of approval radiated from behind me, and I felt footsteps come up behind us. I jumped-evidently, I hate being snuck up on. “We need to see if your mark is capable of stopping the Breach. If it does not, then it will kill you…and then the rest of us.” Leliana spoke frankly, hard. Man, the public faces with these people were giving me whiplash.

“Alright…how exactly do we do that?” I was wary, cringing in anticipation of a very unpleasant afternoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I picture Cassandra here as a) not reacting well AT ALL to ANYTHING, and b) having the same anger management issues she had when she was young, no mellowing involved, so that's why she's so violent. I actually really like Cassandra, but I just never understood how she was so calm.


	4. Plod Plod Fight Fight Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we get some shit I found boring out of the way, and end with some more dreamwalking.

As it turned out, how we did that was to trounce merrily through piles of demons, and try very hard not to die (some of us harder than others, I noted, ruefully slinging my borrowed bow over my shoulder again). I’d borrowed it when I asked if there were any bows I could use, since I didn’t trust my magic yet (nor did anyone else). They were dubious, because I was blind, but I said that the worst that could happen was I hit something really hard with it. So I took one-and it turned out that my elven ears-I’m an elf, which of course I knew from the mirror in the Fade, not that I could tell anyone besides Solas that-are better than I gave them credit for. Or, some of my skill with archery came with me.  
  
  
And here I thought that was just me compensating for my boring mundane life with the amusement that paganism and visualization through meditation can bring.

Cullen and Solas came with me, while Leliana scouted ahead. Cassandra stayed behind to glower at the troops, which worked out for me just fine. I didn’t want someone so unhinged “protecting” me anyway.  
  
  
We met Leliana and Varric (AAAAA) at the rift we were seeking out. Let me tell you, I do NOT ENJOY THESE THINGS. I feel like I’m being stretched like a rubber band, my arm feels like it’s being ripped in half, and the fucking things let off a sonic boom every time they close. It's probably the hand vagina, but I'm pretty sure I am the only one who hears it. Not comforting. Varric’s pretty spiffy though. He’s a sly bastard, a little more obviously mistrustful than in canon, but still a little shit. Great jokes, great stories, but I don’t think that we’ll be getting close anytime soon, especially not after he hid his interrogation of me under jokes. His reaction to that was…openly not neutral. Pity. _I wonder if he lost someone there. That would do it.  
_  
  
I’m skipping over the part about the fat bastard posturing around. You guys are reading this shit, which means you know the fandom, and have probably played the game. You know how it goes. He complains, he postures, he complains some more. The main difference from canon was that Cullen and Leliana were dealing with his crap. Man, couldn’t ANYTHING ELSE have been different? I can think of a good few things that could have been different.  
  
  
I tell you what wasn’t. The Valar forsaken Breach. I’ll gloss over the details. We went through the mountains (largely so I could see about saving whoever got lost up there, which they did, while also avoiding Cassandra in the field), and then I got to wade through a sea of burnt up corpses. I threw up a few times. Varric wasn’t quite as prickly after that, but he hasn’t softened up to whatever his “normal” is. He’s too unnaturally stiff.  
  
  
Another thing I hate are pride demons. And Corypheus’ voice. Fucker’s SKEEZY. His voice is different. Pride demons are assholes. I can’t tell you how many times I got zapped and felt Solas’ healing magic. This shit is balls. I tried to send him some of my strength…I visualized my energy as golden water, and his as blue, and I just sent some gold his way in my mind. I hope it worked, but he didn’t go down, so…that’s a bonus. It’s not like I could have just hovered over him for ten seconds and magically woken him up.  
  
  
“Is that it?” I panted.  
  
  
“No,” said Solas, equally exhausted, leaning on his staff next to me, based on the direction of his voice.  
  
  
“NOW!”, shouted Cullen from across the battlefield. “DO IT!”  
  
  
“Oh,” I sighed, and got as close to the magic of the blasted thing as I could. _Stupid sky vagina…_

If I thought rifts were bad, that piece of shit…it was as if it did not end. I knew I would run out of strength and drew on Solas’. He gave me more than I was drawing on my own. I had to brace myself, as if pushing against a wall, but it was _the breach_ I was pushing against. My arm felt like it was peeling apart at the _bone_ , the pain _so intense_ I didn’t even recognize my own screaming. When the thing snapped shut, I was shocked it didn’t blow my arm completely off. _Pain_ …I whimpered and folded.  
  
  
The next thing I knew was the Fade. The part of it that I was in was much more comfortable this time. Not my garden that I normally am in when I dream, but…it was very lovely. Waterfalls everywhere, great draping floral vines, roses, jasmine, gardenia…it was so _lush_ and _fragrant_. I smiled, and raised my hand to conjure something more comfortable to wear, and grimaced at the arm. It looked like it was mostly missing. “Well. That won’t do. Time to see if I can use magic to speed regeneration in this world…” I concentrated, allowing my energy to thrum, and willed my mana to pool in my arm, to speed the regeneration of the tissue that had been lost. When I could do no more, I opened my eyes, and smiled with satisfaction. Most of the arm was back to normal, with odd swirling patterns stretching from palm and curling around my forearm up to the elbow, to the remainder of the green. “Not bad! Any other day and it would be a striking tattoo. Now to just hope it works in the real world…I am talking to myself. Sigh.”

  
  
I raised my hand a second time, and twirled my finger to put on a dress more like what I preferred. Have you ever seen Hass Idris’ designs? There’s a series called...She Rises At Dusk, I think. Look it up, they’re BEAUTIFUL. Think something backless from that. I’m only a LITTLE vain, and usually in private.  
  
  
“It suits you.” I jumped, and rolled my eyes. “Thank you. Back again? I’d have thought you were too busy fishing around for information as if I’d ever lied to you. I get why you’re a paranoid shit, but I do _not_ have time for that. Not with you. Great way to get killed.”  
  
  
He allowed me a soft smile, his head tilted. “Forgive me, da’len-“ I raised a hand and cut him off. “And dispense with that, will you? Call me that in public if you feel you must, but not here.” He gave me a curious look, but nodded. “As you wish. But I only came to find out if you still lived. I am pleased you are not dead.”  
  
  
I sighed, shedding more of the sarcasm. “Solas, I am either a threat or a curiosity to you.” I turned away to go explore the garden and find out what grew in it, and smiled in delight when I found one of the waterfalls ended with koi. “Please don’t pretend you feel anything about me but that.”  
  
  
I could SWEAR I felt indignance for a brief flash of a moment. “Of course. Ir abelas.” He is quiet, now, for a moment, I assume watching me play with the koi, trailing my fingers along the water for them to follow. I conjure some flakes for them and sprinkle them in the water. “They are beautiful.” His voice is soft.  
  
  
“Koi fish. They’re bottom feeders, carp, and ornamental. I do love them. Some of them-like that one, there, the white with the red spot on the top of the head-are considered lucky. They often also represent balance.” I am slightly nostalgic.  
  
  
“Appropriate.” He has not moved, still watching me. I ignore the comment, but he is silent, and it takes little time before he gets under my skin. _Damn it._ I stand up, and turn around to look at him, exasperated. I’m stunned for a moment. I shouldn’t be, but I am. He’s really quite handsome. Piercing blue eyes, taller than I expected (of course he is, old fart), and impeccable still-tanned skin for having been asleep for 2000 years, with only a bit of freckles over his cheekbones, and only a couple fine scars denting his chin and eyebrow. All he's missing is the dreads, and he'd be perfect concept art Solas. But what’s more, I can _see him_ , which it took me _this long_ to realize.  
  
  
He quirks an eyebrow, and a lip, at my staring. “Da’len?”  
  
  
I frown in irritation, and he smirks. “Do NOT call me that. And I can _see you_. I did not expect to, that is all.” I hoped very desperately that my hair hid the pink of my ears. Thankfully, if he noticed, he ignored it. “Well, you gave me no other name to call you. And did you truly expect not to? You could see me before.”  
  
  
I stopped, blinking. “Well. That explains your surprise to find my blindness. I had forgotten. That conversation is…a little muddled, and I do not remember my name. Not here. Valar, what else have I forgotten…” I ran a hand through my hair, sighing, only to find it stuck halfway through. I frowned in annoyance, conjured a brush, and started brushing my hair.  
  
  
“To tell me where you learned your magic, for one.” Solas seized upon the opportunity. “Did you truly not know you are a mage in the physical world?”  
  
  
I shrugged, still fighting with my hair, and said nothing for a moment. Once braided into submission, I continued to walk through the gardens, which for the moment, continued to unfold into more as I wandered, trailing magic into the flowers as I walked. “No. Nothing feels the way it does where I am from. Wait.” I paused, and turned to him, eyes narrowed. “You will keep silent? I have your word? I know who you are, where you’re from, and if you want to drop the Veil, what you’re up to, and I’m keeping your secrets. I don’t know whether or not I can trust you. You’re perfectly capable of being kind to me and then stabbing me in the back. A bit late for it, perhaps, but…”  
  
  
His stoic mask went back up, and he stiffened, removing his hand from a large red rose reaching towards him from a vine, but slowly nodded. “You have my word. As long as you are silent, I shall be.” I made a face at him, remembering Trespasser. “Ugh, I DO dislike you. So political!”  
  
  
He smiled, relaxing again. “Would you expect any differently? Please, continue.” He gestured in front of him as if to offer the way ahead to me, as the pathway was only wide enough for one. “Most people probably would, oh hobo apostate." I rolled my eyes, but took the pro-offered opening. "I’m not going to stab you in the back. Valar.” I let the eye roll into my voice and moved ahead, brushing a stray wisteria vine out of my face. “Now…the short version of it is that magic exists in my world…in a very different way than it does in this one. One must be able to see through the Veil to use it. It’s largely visualization, feeling, exerting one’s willpower and trusting that it does what it does, and being able to see the connections between, because…that is all we have. We cannot see it. It doesn’t manifest physically…and for that matter, most people think it’s a myth. Hell, our version of the Chantry uses ritual magic and has no idea that’s what they’re doing!”

  
  
I’d reached another waterfall, and was pacing in front of it, while he stood and watched me with growing horror and curiosity. I sat down on the edge of one of the little pools-a raised pond with a rock basin wide and high enough to sit on-after my tirade.

  
  
“You might want to sit; we could be here a while.” I nodded at the other side, and he silently and obligingly sat, never breaking eye contact. _Valar, intense much?_ “It’s terrible. And for that matter, most would not believe you’re real. If I could ever get back there, and told them about this, they’d tell me that I was hallucinating or something.”

  
“And why would they say that?” He was quiet, but surprise evident on his face. I sighed. I’d told him more than I intended to this soon, if at all, in my irritation. “Because my world is not another parallel of Thedas. Because in my world, you are fiction. I would try and misdirect, but…I have no good solution for this. I hope you trust me as much one day. For now, I will say no more on that.”

  
  
He nodded, slowly, tracing the water thoughtfully. _He does a lot of that._ “And what is your world?” The same quiet tone he seemed to use when taking in a great deal of information.

“That…depends. It’s…complicated. Yours is not the first world I’ve found, but it’s the first that’s happened…quite like this. Yes, I mentioned a similarity to another, but…it wasn’t quite the same. Or enough? Yours is the first one I wish I could write about.” _He doesn’t need to know that I’m literally writing about it as it happens._

He raised an eyebrow, in challenge of my stalling, and I rolled my eyes and huffed. “Oh, come on, you think I’m comfortable talking about it? I don’t want you trying to get there and use my people for your own purposes, and I have no proof yet that you will not, experiential or empirical.”  
  
  


He chuckled, oddly offended considering what made him bristle before, but conceding the point. “If you will not tell me where your world is, will you tell me more about yourself?”

  
  
I snorted again. “As if! And deprive myself of all the fun I’ll have watching you be curious and unable to say anything about it around anyone else, trying to remember all the things that you want to ask me? Perish the thought!” I put a hand to my chest dramatically, as if aghast, and he smiled.  
  


  
“Did no one ever tell you it is dangerous to bait a wolf?” He was practically PURRING. _Why. Why is he purring._ The smile dropped off my face like a brick, conversation utterly ruined, and I immediately backed away from him, so fast I was nearly running. “What do you want, Solas.” It was a statement, terse and sharp. I don’t trust anyone who hits on me that fast…especially not him. His face was one of alarm-or at least, I think it was. _Fuck, another flashback? Great._ _I really can’t control them here._ _Of COURSE._ My eyes darted around, looking for an escape, and I only half registered hands raised in appeasement before the abruptness of his departure had me on my knees. I caught a glow, and something unintelligible from a voice I recognized as Virtue, before I jolted awake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Solas is a flirt, who knew?


	5. The Inquisition Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Very Long War Meeting (tm).

Toooo the sound of shattering glass. I whipped my head around, panting, trying to shake the dream from my head. I don’t know how I was awake, let alone lucid… _probably Virtue’s doing_. A faint chuckle at the back of my mind confirmed it. A gasp centered me on…a teenage girl?  
  
  


“Oh, _shit_ , I didn’t know you were awake!”, she blurted out. _She sounds like Sera. Hilarious._  
  
“Yes, neither did I. It’s fine.” I rubbed my face. This day was going nowhere fast. “What day is it? Did anyone die? Why in the…VOID am I in someone’s cabin? What happened?”  
  
  
“Andraste’s tits, one question at a time, right? It’s been three days. Bunch of people died, but not as many as anyone thought, this is YOUR cabin, and so far as anyone talks about, you passed out stopping the Breach from growing.” She was wary, but clearly she had spirit.  
  
  
I chuckled. “Stupid sky vagina. So NOW they like me.” I sighed, rubbed my face again as she let out a raucous nasal giggle. “Who are you? Do you have a name?”  
  
  
“Oi, of course I got a name! What kind of question is that?” She seemed to catch herself. “Er, your…holiness.” She seemed like she had to force out the words. “I’m Sera.”  
  
  
I felt my jaw drop open, and I blinked. “You’re shitting me.”  
  
  
“Nope!” She gave me a cheerful grin. _I'm BLIND, how can I SENSE THIS IN SUCH DETAIL when I CANNOT SEE. Ugh!_ Virtues sly grin returned, and they snuck in _Perhaps you should ask Solas._ I ignored them, and out loud, I chuckled and shook my head. “Amazing. You remind me of someone I once knew with the same name. Small world.”  
  
  
She looked a bit weirded out, and sidled towards the door. “Yeah, well, I’m supposed to tell Ser Cullen that you’re awake. Should prob’ly get on that, yeah? You can keep…waking up…with your…you…ness…” She trailed off into muttering.  
  
  
“Oi, where is he?” I called, before she could flee.  
  
  
She snorted. “Where else, with those pants? The Chantry.”  
  
  
I chuckled, and she ran off. I pushed the covers off, and caught a flash of green. THAT color I could "see". Remembering, slightly resentful, I felt up my arm, to find it intact. “It DID work! Well...or it was never that damaged in the real world” I was delighted. _Fantastic!_ I groped around to see what I could find close to the wall. Relievingly, someone had left something warmer on a chair close to the bed, within reach.  
  
  
Ten minutes later, I was dressed, and-finding what is either a staff or a walking stick on my way groping around the walls trying to find the door-face to face with a crowd of adoring and hushed crowd. I distinctly heard the words “Herald of Andraste” spoken. _Oh shit_.  
  
  
_Just smile and nod,_ said a very amused Virtue. Sound advice. I followed it. When I started feeling for the ground in front of me, the comments about my blindness followed. I ignored them, instead, calling, “Could anyone be so kind as to point me to the Chantry?”  
  
  
No one proved particularly helpful, so I sighed, tilted my head, and proceeded to follow the sound of the singing. At least there was a pathway…of sorts. More like a glaring lack of people to follow. Did you know that commonly trodden pathways leave their own sort of magical signature? Neither did I, until I looked around. I guess it makes sense-enough energy, enough believe associated with a road and it gets its own feel, even if not clearly defined. The way around this place seemed defined enough.  
  
  


It didn’t really give me a damned thing to not trip and fall on my face, though, and I found myself stumbling along far more slowly than I would prefer. _What happened to the ease I navigated my way around with earlier?_ I thought, butthurt. _The Breach was not shut, then_ , said Virtue. I groaned to myself. I’d only made it ten feet, in half that much time.

Thankfully, my rescue was at hand. “Herald!” _Cullen_. I whipped my head towards the sound, and waited for him, hearing the jostling that sounded like it meant he was trying to get to me. I felt a hand on my arm, and switched my walking stick to my right hand from my left, so I could take his. _Kind of him to allow you to keep your weapon at the expense of his own, don’t you think?_ Virtue’s voice was loaded with feigned innocence. _Oh hush you. Are you going to try and imply romantic attachment to EVERYONE who shows me any ounce of kindness?_ I scoffed, sending the impression of rolled eyes. _Only the ones for whom it takes great effort._ I sputtered at them, struggling to not give away the conversation to Cullen. Thankfully, they withdrew with a quiet laugh, and I could break the awkward silence that had built between Cullen and I. “Thank you for the rescue. It would have taken me hours, especially given I had no idea where I was going. No one seemed inclined to tell me.”  
  
  
“Ah!” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “You’re welcome. The elven girl-“ “Sera,” I interrupted him. He paused, caught off guard. “…Yes, her. She informed me you were awake, and I came immediately. I had hoped to beat the crowd, but it seems rumours travel faster.” _Yes, particularly when aided by chatty teenagers…_ but I smiled at him, and nodded. “They always seem to. I’m sure everyone here knows more about me than I do.”

I allowed him to help me up some stairs, and then we headed down a long hall which I assumed was the Chantry…towards an increasingly loud argument. “Uhh…” I looked warily in the direction of the noise. Cullen sighed, and I could hear the swipe of his hand over his face and through his hair. _Valar, these ears really ARE keen…_ “They’ve been at it in circles. I admit I’ve been a bit short myself, but…they MUST agree a decision has to be made!”  
  
I blinked up at him, surprised at his passion, and bewildered. He sighed again, and I heard the brush against the fur he wore as he shook his head. “You’ll see. Brace yourself, it will likely be taxing. I will stay between you and Cassandra, if you like.”

  
  
I thought about it a moment, then nodded. “I have difficulty trusting anyone here. You are all strangers. But so far, you’ve been…largely kind. She’s not been at all. Please.”  
  
  
  
He sighed, and I felt a nod. _Odd. I can see the red of his cloak. Perhaps the blindness was temporary?_ I wondered. _No,_ said Virtue _, you are learning to use magic to substitute._ I blinked in surprise, but had no time to process the statement before he gently pushed me forward and opened the door. I soon found myself gently pushed to the corner of a _very_ large, _very heavy_ table. It seemed to be solid wood, and from the feel, a slice of a huge tree turned into a table-they hadn’t even cleaned the edges, just polished them. I ran my fingers lightly over the ridges, exploring the edges and what of the designs on the top I could feel. My fingers ran into a marker on the top, and I blinked in surprise. _A huge map? I WISH I could see! I LOVE maps!_

My excitement was very short lived. A loud slam, of hands on a table, startled me out of my brief reverie. “She _must_ be tried by the Divine!” Cassandra, of all people. Of course. Why wouldn’t she? _Ugh_.

  
  
“I agree!”, said the pompous voice of Fat Bastard, aka Roderick. “We have no proof of her innocence!”  


“Are you saying my word is for nothing?” Cullen’s sharp voice was closer than I expected. It made me jump, and my shoulders tensed.

  
  
“And mine.” Leliana’s voice was quiet, but laden with threat. I could _hear_ the narrowed eyes. “I too saw it. The Divine called to her for aid. She is innocent.”  
  
  
Cassandra said nothing, though I felt her simmering. Roderick was not so easily persuaded. “But you _have. No. Proof.”_  
  
  
“And you have no _say_.” Cullen’s voice brooked no argument, and I heard his cloak rustle as he turned. “Escort the Brother out of the room. His insight is no longer needed.” I heard the click of heels from guards I hadn’t known were there coming to attention. Roderick sputtered, still complaining, but the sound was soon muffled by the door closed behind him.  
  
  
I scoffed. “Well. He’s…a joy.” A soft feminine chuckle to my right drew my attention, and I turned so my ear was facing her. “Andaran atishan,” said her lilting voice. I raised my eyebrows. “You speak Elvhen?”  
  
  
She chuckled apologetically. “That is the entirety of it, unfortunately. You must teach me more, later, perhaps? But we must return to the matter at hand.”  
  
  
I nodded, choosing not to mention that I was not likely to teach strangers anything. “And that is…?”  
  
  
“The Inquisition,” Cullen said, firmly, the thump of his hands implying he’d braced on the table. I could feel Cassandra’s nod. “Indeed. Now that the prisoner has stilled the Breach, we must go about the business of closing it.” Her rich voice was equally decisive.  
  
  
“She is the _Herald of Andraste_ -” Leliana reproached, and Cassandra scoffed. “-and we are _not ready_. We have no leadership, no forces, and now no Chantry support. This could not have had worse timing.”  
  
  
“Firstly, I’m not Andraste’s anything. Secondly, I fail to see how a sky vagina of death-“ here, Cullen covered a cough that COULD have been a chuckle, “-could have ANY decent timing. Thirdly, what in MANDOS’ name is an Inquisition, and fourth, and most importantly, why is this about ME? I notice I’m not chained up anymore and I seem to have been sleeping in someone’s cabin all by myself, instead of hanging around in Mold And Melting Wrists land.” I am terse, hands splayed on the table for bracing, face tilted down to try and hide my face while allowing me to hear. _Please be more organized than the game, please be more organized than the game…_ Why couldn’t I have been the spiffy sidekick?

“Why, you little-“ Cassandra was outraged over _something_ , and from the sounds tried to push past Cullen to me again.  
  
  
“WHAT? What did I ever do to you that you keep trying to kill me over me having a personality? What is your _problem_ , woman?” My voice rose along with my frustration, and next to me, the lilting lady made a noise of concern, while I heard low swearing in what I assume was Orlesian, given how French it sounded.  
  
  
“You KILLED THE DIVINE!”, screamed Cassandra.

“I DID NO SUCH THING! Leliana and Cullen vouched for me, they SAW IT! I do not remember it, but it WAS SHOWN! Can’t you just shut up and deal with that and find someone else to hit? Like a DUMMY? I’m not your whipping boy, nor a scapegoat! Grow up!” I yelled, hands balling into fists. I felt something suspiciously hot curl around my hands, and everyone got suddenly quiet. The silence stretched while I struggled to regain control of my temper.  
  
  
“Herald.” Cullen’s voice was quiet, but wary, like someone trying to soothe an injured beast. “No one is going to harm you.”  
  
  


“You are the Herald of Andraste to the people, no matter how you dislike the title. You _stopped the Breach._ To many, you are inspiration. Cullen is correct…if you stay, no one will harm you. They must not. The Inquisition needs you. Without your mark, we cannot close the rifts, nor the Breach.” Leliana’s voice was also soft, tinged with sympathy, and I felt the heat recede, and the tension in the room drained.  
  
  


“And if I choose to leave? This is a shemlen organization, led by Chantry people, no matter what Roderick denounces. I’m an Elf, and I’ve gotten a small taste of how humans treat Elves-Cullen didn’t even care about the name of the girl who was there when I woke.” I felt him wince next to me. “Why should I stay?” My tone dripped with skepticism, but I was quieter.

  
  
“You may leave, but we cannot protect you if you do so…and some still believe the same as the Lady Cassandra. If you stay, we will not allow treatment of Elves such as you have described. The Inquisition must give you its full support if we are to succeed…and if we are to protect you. But about the rest of your misgivings, I cannot say. It is yours to decide,” said the lilting woman. _I really need to get her name_.

I sighed, feeling myself starting to cave, and rubbed my face with my hands. _Shit_. “What is the Inquisition?”  
  
  
“Put simply, we seek to close the Breach. We seek to do what no one else will. While everyone else stands in the fire and complains that it is hot, we work to solve the real goal.” Cassandra’s voice was still a challenge, strong and defiant. I rolled my eyes and started when a large slam echoed through the room. She’d thrown something heavy on the table. “This is the writ of the Divine. Stop the war. Close the Breach. Until this is over, and we are no longer needed.”

“And my people?” I asked, quietly. “What of my people? What of the Dwarves? What of any…Qunari? Vashoth? Whatever. What of the mages? Are they to be included, or is this salvation reserved purely for humans? I will not be associated with a discriminating organization, whatever the purpose and whatever has happened to me. I can just as easily go about on my own, if I wish to help.”  
  
  
There was a very pregnant, and uncomfortable, pause. I steadily arched my eyebrows, and crossed my arms, waiting silently.  
  
  
Cullen was the first to bend. “I see no reason to exclude anyone.”

“Indeed,” agreed Leliana, “All are affected by the Breach. We cannot leave some to die and save others.”

“Why not? Shemlen do it all the time,” I retorted, my eyebrow raised skeptically.  
  
  
“Because we are not monsters,” replied Cullen, quietly, “and perhaps it is time we proved it.”  
  
  
“Then I will be present in this room, and I insist on being treated as an equal. I will not be less for a pair of ears. Not if those people outside want to slap me with their deity’s name, and if you want me to stay just to throw me into the line of fire because my hand is green. I and every single person in the Inquisition, and that we come across, will be treated with respect, and the same as any other, excepting the same caution anyone gets to be sure they’re not going to attack. No bias due to race or ability. Fear will get us nothing. EASING it will. The second I feel equality is lacking, I leave. With my things and anyone else who feels as I do, should they choose.” I tightened my shoulders, glaring in some direction or other, lips pursed. Virtue felt nervous, but I had no intention of backing down. “My principles matter more to me than some stupid sky vagina of death. I don’t care if it’s inconvenient. Those are my terms. Being PAID equally would be nice also, but I’m an Elf. I’d be shocked if I was.”

There was more silence. Clearly, in this Thedas, racism abounds, bigotry is rampant, and people are raised to be heartless pricks. There'd been obvious glaring indications, but this confirmed it. I scowled deeper. _It had to be THIS reality?_ Virtue sent the impression of sympathy and apology.

“Well,” Leliana, said, _finally,_ “in that case, I suppose we should send word for the announcement. Our Elvhen Inquisitor must speak to her Inquisition, no?”  
  
  
_Wait, what?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN DUN DUN. Also, yes, it's Sera. Don't worry, I'm not brushing her under the rug, there will be more Sera, I just felt like having her origin be somewhere else.


	6. Magic Training. Sort of.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some glossing over of the major events-I think I'm going to do a lot of that, unless there's shit that really draws my attention-and a LOT of talking with Solas.

As it turned out, announcing the Inquisition was a rather modest affair, held three days after our first meeting, though saturated with the pomp and circumstance of the shemlen nobility of this world. I didn’t have to fake the sneering at _that_. I sighed, waiting for the announcements to be over. _Otherworlds_. _Why do I bother with them again?_ This Thedas chose the oddest times to make me feel like I do not belong. I supposed it was how outcast I felt, standing to the side while the charismatic Commander announced the new Inquisition, the Right and Left hands at his side.  
  
  
I’d persuaded Leliana and the others that having an Elvhen Inquisitor right at it’s announcement was a hilariously bad idea. They seemed to have _no_ understanding of Elves at all. Like… _at all._ I was pretty sure that the overcompensation would alienate us from Elves AND humans. Based on the feel of the energies from both-mixtures of suspicion, respect, and adoration from the humans, and respect and hope from most of the Elves, it looked like I was right. I suspected that if I was given more power, the Elves would trust it less, and the humans would be simply be suspicious, and we’d lose all support.  
  
  
After the ceremony, they’d agreed with me.  
  
  
I _finally_ found out that yes, this _is_ Haven, that cabin _is_ mine, it _was_ the Temple of Sacred Ashes that blew up, everything _was_ more organized than in canon-turns out the Inquisition had already had a fair few people sign up before I showed up, simply due to the efforts with the Mage/Templar war (ugh)-and that “pretty lilting lady” was indeed Lady Ambassador Josephine Montilyet, as I’d hoped. Whew, that took a breath. I got a bit nosy. I couldn’t find out whether or not Sera was a Jenny, though…largely because I couldn’t figure out how to find out without getting stabbed. So, I asked for her to be my maid, instead.   
  
I was surprised Josephine had forgotten to introduce herself. _She must really be stressed_. It turned out that while Commander Cullen WAS the Commander, he didn’t actually do much of the Commanding. Much like some other militaries with Commanders who did less of the _work_ work, most of the work was actually delegated to Cassandra, who is impressive with her training of the troops, I’ll admit. Cullen told me it was so that she could yell at people who thrived with it, instead of everyone else, and so he could see to the rest. I’d laughed far too hard at that, and come out of it to notice him blushing.  
  
Oh, about all that. The MAGIC, not the BLUSHING, pfft.  
  
Turns out that it’s not as hard to sort out how magic can help me see. I spoke to Solas about that, after I got out of that blasted meeting-it seems he had been lurking nearby in the Chantry. Seeing that Solas was content to guide me to wherever I wished to go, I heard the rustle of Cullen’s cape as he gave a half bow, and took his leave. I smiled at him-or tried, I have no idea where I smiled at, but I was a bit distracted by Solas’ lurking.  
  
Because, of course he had. He’d been working the “wise old man” vs “ignorant child” angle _far_ too much, in my opinion. Likely in retaliation for me making him work for information about me. He had far too much fun patronizing me, knowing I’d have to play along to not be found out as magically educated…which would raise questions that could get me killed, given my complete lack of knowledge of that world and my inability to explain where the rest of my knowledge REALLY comes from.  
  
Smug bastard.  
  
“Well, you see, da’len…” _That Valar-forsaken SMIRK, I’d love to wipe it off his…shit, smile, be nice, blend in…_ “it is not uncommon even for mages with their vision intact to perceive things that those without magic cannot. What you are seeing is the mana of a person. Their energy, if you will. Their spirit.” I watched him walk, back ramrod straight, shoulders set, chin high, not cowed like so unlike any other elves around. _Including me...urgh._  
  
I repressed the urge to roll my eyes and grumble, and pasted a curious expression on my face. _Yes, Solas, I know all about how to see auras, you tit, but it doesn’t look like THIS._ He continued, seemingly ignorant to my internal dilemma. ”As you cannot see anything but, it seems your mind has enhanced what you can see. Perhaps to replicate what you have lost.” _Oh_. The thoughtful look I likely wore this time was genuine. “Similar to non-magic blind individuals who find their other senses compensating for the loss, then?”  
  
I felt mild, but pleasant, surprise from him, and then a nod. “Indeed.”  
  
For a moment we walked in silence, punctuated only by soft warnings of obstacles I had not seen. I had a brief flashback to when I was being tortured, and when he came, and I stiffened slightly. He noticed, and I felt his inquiring prod of magic.  
  
“Ir abelas.” I was quiet, but gently urged him to continue walking, wherever we were going.  
  
“You have done nothing worthy of apology,” he replied, quietly.  
  
“*/*No. Ir abelas. For before. When they were torturing me. I called you vhenan…quite a great deal. I was…I thought you were someone else. And then in the Fade, by the waterfall, when I…” I trailed off, not knowing how to describe PTSD to him.  
  
He seemed stunned. _Whether at the use of the language or what I said in it…_ He was silent for some minutes, still only gently steering me about-how far had we gone? When he finally drew in a deep breath, we had passed through both Haven and the training grounds, and had arrived at somewhere a bit more windy, but much more private. _Oh boy_.  
  
“You should not apologize. I should not have…my behavior was inappropriate. I apologize. It will not happen again.” _Is that self loathing? What IS it with this guy?_  
  
“I…look, here’s the thing. Are we out of earshot?”, I asked quietly. I felt him shake his head ever so slightly “no”. _So we’ve been followed, then._ _Elvhen it is. Good thing it’s similar enough between worlds. Shit._  
  
“*/*I am…complicated…in that respect,” I began.  
  
“You do not need to explain anything to me,” he interrupted, abruptly. _And yet I still sense the shame._ _Why so OBVIOUS?_  
  
“*/*I do. You’re the only one who knows anything about me. And I daresay I’m the same about you. It would not surprise me if we both went insane if we could not speak _a little_. Let me speak.” It was quiet, not harsh, but he conceded.  
  
I took a breath, and continued. “*/*As I said, I am complicated. I do not identify with the body I was given. Who I am attracted to varies, and I am _already with_ many people…elsewhere. I do not restrict myself to one, but permission is required for more. But all this assumes that I’m even aware that there’s interest. I am…not known for that. The only reason I knew what you intended is because your _feelings_ were so easy to read. And I reacted poorly due to a…somewhat violent history with men. I cannot sleep with people to whom I have no emotional connection. Not all have agreed with this. You…did little that most people would not appreciate…and in the process, found a weak point that now I must clear for the sake of my conscience.”  
  
I ran a hand through my hair, rather more roughly than I should have. I winced, and he disentangled my hand for me, silently. I found my other hand gripping his arm more tightly than I should have, and loosened it. “I wish you could not so easily get under my skin. It is dangerous. And embarrassing. I do not want to be one of your playthings.”  
  
His gasp was soft but audible, even though the wind, and he took a step back, his magic-blue and fluid, like mists and smoke and raw mana-lashing wild around him. “Is _that_ what you think you are?” His tone was incredulous, unlike the casual stoic calm he usually wore.  
  
“What else could I be? Apart from the 'Herald'", I said mockingly. "I was…I know enough about Arlathan to take a guess at what your life was like. Whether or not you ever loved, then, I have no idea, but I gather most people you were that forward with were temporary in your life. I cannot be, and at this point in time I don’t CARE what Virtue says, I just…don’t know or trust anyone, and _even if I did_ , I cannot access the rest of my family to even find out what is permitted. It’s impossible. I’ve known you what, a week? Maybe? And I was unconscious for most of that. I don’t understand how _anyone_ could be coming onto someone else in that time. Literally, it does not connect in my mind.”  
  
My babble, which he stayed very still throughout, was tinted by nerves and tension, reminded constantly of former situations that went much less smoothly. _Wait. Fuck. I mentioned Virtue._ _Oh shit please let him think I talk to them in the Fade…_  
  
“You are not the only one who had many.” He was very quiet. “I assure you. You are wrong. But if it is unwelcome…so be it.”  
  
_WHY am I so upset about this?_ I made a distressed noise. “I’m not saying no forever. I cannot say that to ANYONE, because I have no idea what will happen. I’m saying no now. Because I’m still trying to cope with being _alone_ and _in a strange place_. Please. Just…if you wish _anything_ , I must know you trust me…amongst other things.” I muttered the last part. “If you cannot, nothing will ever come of it.”  
  
I felt him distance slightly, magically, as well as the nod, and the return to his stiff, straight backed, hands clasped behind the back, stick up the butt norm. He said nothing, and I sat next to the river. _How do I know this is a river. Ugh, he just answered it, but…this is so different…I’ll just have to get used it._  
  
“How did you know I was a mage?” I changed the topic, and crouched in the snow, reaching my fingers towards the ice.  
  
“You mean apart from sensing your magic the second I walked into the dungeon?”, he asked wryly.  
  
I turned and stuck my tongue out at him in the direction of his voice. “Yes, I mean apart from that.”  
  
He chuckled. “You nearly blew up my cabin, when I was attempting to heal you. This was before the iron had begun to burn you.”  
  
I sputtered. “Are you kidding me?”  
  
“Oh, not remotely. I believe there are still holes in the walls being repaired. I am currently sharing a tent with Master Tethras.” I felt his mouth twist on the last one, his tone incredibly dry.  
  
“Shitty tent mate, huh?”  
  
He offered a slight nod in response. _He’s really good to practice this “using magic to see” thing on. ...I need a different guppy._  
  
_What about Cullen?,_ asked Virtue.   
  
“You should share mine. It’s only fair, since I exploded yours.” I spoke without thinking, the two conversations happening nearly at once. I immediately reddened. “You know what, pretend I did NOT say that. Valar. That would probably be worse, after the conversation we just had."  
  
He chuckled. “I heard nothing but the wind, da’len.”  
  
“Oh for the LAST TIME-“ I began indignantly.  
  
“You STILL have not given me a name, da’len,” he said, mildly.  
  
I blinked. “…Ah. So I haven't. That would. Ah. Be. Because I…do not know…what I was named…here…” I coughed awkwardly. “Did I not tell you this?”  
  
“You did. But you must come up with one, or you will suffer being called ‘Herald’ even by those you may befriend. I also believe the Ambassador may wish to have a name to use in her missives, on occasion,” he finished lightly.  
  
“Oh, hah, hilarious.” I sighed. “Can we not simply practice a few spells? I would like to see if magic works here the way it does in other worlds. Can you contain it if it goes wild, _hahren?”_ , I finished sarcastically.  
  
An impression of an eyeroll any harder and it could be held in one’s hands was my reward. “Ma nuvenin, _da’len_.” He couldn’t quite disguise the curiosity from his voice, however gruff he tried to sound. _HAH. Nerd._  
  
I sat on the ground, meditating and seeking my energy, white and effervescent, and pulled it into me. My left hand sparked as I did so, and I heard Solas’ soft gasp, but I continued. “How does magic work where you come from?”, he asked, quietly. I felt his containment barrier go up discreetly as I continued, and I did not look up when I answered.  
  
“The way I trained, the basics began with a simple energy ball, to master summoning energy and shaping it to one’s will in the most basic sense, so that is what I begin with. I…am not sure what I am familiar with that will transfer here, but…I have always identified strongly with starlight, water, and earth. In some places, I am an incredibly skilled healer, amongst other things, and in some…I am simply aware of others, and I do what I can from a damaged body that cannot be cured. And I do not mean my eyes. I am an artist, there.” I coughed, cursing how easily this man got me bumbling over my words like a child. “Anyway. Starlight. I should have a sizeable ball, now, no?”  
  
I held it out to him in the palm of one hand. I felt him cautiously approach, touch it with one finger, and then shiver as he realized that the mana was still connected to my body, not fully released in a spell. Where I trained, such a thing meant that one felt more of the other than would normally be, in almost any other magical situation. This setting was professional-to me, at least. I wasn’t willing to think about the other ones. I wanted to avoid more blushing.  
  
When he had explored the feel adequately for my comfort, I dispersed the sphere, and pulled the mana back into my system. I stood, slowly, stretching my mana in front of me to see if I could read the landscape as well as I had in battle, before I closed the first Rift. To my pleasure, it worked perfectly, and the voice of the land, subtle and encouraging, offered me approval for my efforts.  
  
So, I walked towards the lake. Solas pulled at my elbow in alarm. “Herald! You cannot go onto the ice. It is not thick enough.” I smiled. “Solas, I want to see if something else I could do when I dreamed will work even half as well here. If you are concerned, then come down with me and pull me back if I seem to fall in. I am not going to just run out on the ice. I want to test the edges. I can hear the water lapping. I have the ears too,” I finished, teasing.  
  
He made a low grumble of disapproval, but I caught a hint of a smile... _much_ more subtly than before _. Damn, he DIDN’T know he was so obvious? No wonder he was an open book and seemed so…unreserved. Well, he sure won’t be NOW. I shouldn’t have mentioned it. Pfft._ Virtue chuckled. I was very glad he had not mentioned them.  
  
With him attached FIRMLY, but flexibly, to my elbow, I made my way cautiously down to the lake, minding the voices of the earth. _I love animism_. I tentatively stretched my toe out to the water, willing it to become solid under my feet. I felt the blossom of ice crackle from where it touched, and again, Solas gasped. I grinned, and continued to tread onto the ice. _If I could conjure ice skates like Elsa, I’d just skate around and see what Solas would do. Probably frown a whole lot and then yank me back onto land._  
  
I did not go far, two steps out at most, and turned around to come back onto land. I felt tension release from his chest and shoulders that he could not hide. “That was _dangerous_ , da’len!” I chuckled, and shook my head, crouching for my staff. A few quick strides and Solas had retrieved it for me, and I pushed myself up on it. “It was no such thing. Though…I suppose perhaps experimental magic…hmm. Alright, you win, but…it WAS fun. Was it pretty? I used to love trying to make magic look pretty, just because.” I ended wistful.  
  
“It was beautiful,” he replied. “But now we must return. It seems your antics drew some attention. We have a small audience, including your Commander Cullen.”  
  
“He is not MY-“ I burst out.  
  
“Come, da’len.” Solas’ brooked no argument, and his pace was quick. Quicker now that he could tell I could see better, but I was still nervous about the pace. He did not seem to care.  
  
“And WHAT in the world has your panties in a twist?”, I asked, bewildered.  
  
He offered no reply, instead nudging my mana to look ahead to the waiting individuals. They all looked _furious_.  
  
“…Ah.” I was suddenly extremely nervous, and I felt a familiar tightness in my chest. My feet stopped, and not of my own volition.  
  
“Da’len. You must face them.” His voice was soft, but there was a tightness in it that echoed mine.  
  
“I suppose more Elvhen survived than I thought,” I said, quietly, looking nervously up at Cullen.  
  
“You could say that.” His voice was quiet but sharp, and the outline of him looked stiff and hard. I could see a clenched jaw. _I’m fucked_.  
  
I looked back at Solas as I got dragged off by the elbow, none too gently. “Hazel. Go with Hazel, Solas.” _Just in case they friggin kill my ass..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN DUN DUN. Maybe the Inquisitor should learn to shut up, and to take some more cues, huh? Solas DID try to get her to shut up TWICE. Hopefully this clears the air instead of fucking it up. Who can tell?
> 
> Sorry this is so long. I really wanted to get a bit of magical training with Solas in, and I couldn’t find a stopping point. Woo?
> 
> Also, fuck formatting, basically, it's pissing me off. Imma yeet if I have to go in and check all the chapters on their own.


	7. Hazel No Can Haz Sekrits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You know, I really thought she was gonna be better at hiding it than this. 
> 
> Evidently not. 
> 
> INTERROGATION TIME. Don't worry, no violence.

I paced back and forth in the War Room. This shit is _really balls,_ guys, let me tell you. I know, not very refined of me to say. TOO BAD, anxiety, AAA. I had managed to explain my empathic sensitivity and that if they didn’t give me space, and access to the door, I’d panic and be useless to everyone. After a promise that I would not run, and a threat that if I did they’d send Cassandra after me, they conceded, and gave me what space they could.  
  
Cullen leaned in a corner, arms and ankles crossed, glowering at me. Leliana stood, arms behind her back, deceptively casual, which was somehow more terrifying. Josephine kept to the corner she was in before, looking terrifying as I assume only an Antivan would, and Cassandra kept blessedly still…if like a cat about to pounce…on the other side of the War Table from me.  
  
“Can you promise me you won’t kill me for the answers?” I asked, drawing a shaky breath. _Tight quarters. Valar. I hate them._ _Thank fuck they let me keep to the door._  
  
“THAT depends on what the answers are.” Cassandra’s voice was menacing, and twice as terrifying now that the entire room was against me. I was _sure_ that Cullen wouldn’t stop her this time.  
  
“I know. I meant, just for their existence. Not their contents. I have…people have attempted to kill me for less. And much of this will seem impossible. Which is why I wasn’t going to tell you.” More pacing. Still terse. Waiting.  
  
“I believe that we would be more likely to do so if you had none,” answered Cassandra slowly, oddly relaxing. _This woman’s moods make no sense._  
  
I nodded curtly. “Then…ask me what you will. And understand that many of these answers are complex. I will simplify them as best I can, but…I may fail. I…babble…when I am nervous.” A thought occurred to me. “Have you done anything to Solas? Please do not. I made him promise not to tell anyone. You…you’re humans. We’re elves.” I gave a helpless shrug, willing them to understand. “He has done nothing but respected my privacy.”  
  
“Some things should be shared, oaths or not,” said Cullen, sternly. “But…loyalty is to be commended. I will have him released.”  
  
I was horrified. “He’s in-VALAR, you haven’t done anything to him, have you?! I cannot have someone innocent suffering in my place.”  
  
The air in the room seemed a little softer to me then, but I passed it off as my imagination. The way they’re treating ME, and kindness would soften them? No. Nope, can’t believe that, that’ll get me killed. Though Cullen does tend to change his mind easily. _Valar, he’s as whiplashy as Cassandra…just less violent about it._  
  
“No. Not yet. He is well…if likely cold.” Cullen’s voice was less hard, but no less succinct. “Now-“  
  
“Are you really from another world?”, blurted out Josephine, interrupting Cullen. I sensed embarrassment, but paid it no notice. _As if she could be more embarrassed than me…_ I tried to look at Cullen, for a cue, but he had moved. “Well?” Cassandra’s patience wore out quickly, and I jumped.  
  
“I…yes,” I answered, my voice small.  
  
There was a pause. “...And?”, prompted Leliana, her voice calm, but her energy tinged with annoyance.  
  
“And…what? How would you summarize Thedas to someone who did not know it existed five minutes ago? I need you to tell me what you wish to know.” I could not stop some indignance from entering my voice, and internally cursed it. I blame them. They were fishing, and I HATE fishing. Just say things!  
  
“I believe they wish to know whether you are an abomination, da’len,” said Solas, whom Cullen seemed to have left to retrieve. _I guess they want his version too. Great._  
  
“...I’m from another world. Not the Fade. The Fade is not another world. The fuck,” I answered flatly, entirely unimpressed. How do they LIVE here and not know that?  
  
“That is a matter for debate, but I can conceive of the argument,” Solas said calmly.  
  
“How did you get here?”, asked Josephine.  
  
“I wish I knew. One minute I was minding my business, raising my kid, trying to make some chainmail jewelry around a kitten who WOULDN’T. GO. AWAY, curled up next to my-to Ara. The next, I was in Moldy Rock Cellar Of Pain, being zapped a whole lot. I had no idea where I was until you-“ I nodded at Cassandra “-said Solas’ name. And not even then, apparently, since I’ve never bloody been here before,” I ended, agitated.  
  
“How would Solas’ name tell you it was Thedas?”, asked Cassandra suspiciously, pushing herself up to lean off of the wall somewhat. Squinting did not flatter.  
  
“Are you familiar with the multiverse theory?”, I asked. At their shaken heads, I explained. “In summary, it is theorized that there are infinite parallel realities of one’s world, one for every decision that could ever have been made, and all resulting consequences. Some are EXTREMELY different…and some are very similar. I have been to several others. Most of them have an Elven mage named Solas…and I’m acquaintances with some, friends with others…and lovers of some.” I said the last quietly.  
  
I raised my hand at the mouths opened to ask more questions-it was like looking at an etch-a-sketch, or a scratch board that had had mostly stick figures done on it, but that changed color and shape based on mood. Very strange, but way better than before. It helped that I could literally hear them breathe.  
  
“I extend this theory to that there are infinite parallel realities of _every world that has ever been imagined, and every thought that has ever occurred_. I do not come from another Thedas.”  
  
I paused, to let that sink in, for a moment, then continued. “I have the ability to travel throughout them at will- _usually_. Sometimes I am…pulled, for lack of better term, to some, if I am needed. I have no idea what does the pulling, which has always galled me, and it’s been less recent of late, but…it has happened. Honestly, for a while, I thought I was nuts, but _this_ …this is _insane_. And distressing. I have an extensive family I left behind. I miss them. And I have no idea how to get back, nor how to connect the two-anything I know that would have worked has so far failed.”  
  
I paused again, looked down at my hand. “I had one of these, there. A few places, actually…I was the Inquisitor in the last one I found. That place is pretty cool.” I smiled, chuckled a little, before my smile faded.  
  
“So you might have hints of what might happen to us?”, Josephine asked eagerly. I felt the hope from the others, and while I hated to dash it, I sighed. “Sadly…no. I have little idea. I’ve gotten good at deduction, at comparing and contrasting between places, you know? It’s…sort of an ability I’ve honed? I don’t know how to explain it. Got called a Seer a few times, but I don’t know if it’s like anything that exists here. What I _do_ know is that this place is very different from most. I cannot predict most of what happens, and when it IS similar, it’s frustrating given how glaringly obvious it should’ve been in hindsight. I…am of little aid as far as that is concerned. …I am sorry. If I knew more, I would tell you.”  
  
I looked at my hand again. “What I was getting at was that…this thing closes rifts, as you know. I’ve already looked at it, closely, and I know that it opens them as well. In my primary worlds, where it isn’t an unexpected thing, I can use it to open portals between worlds, when my normal ability to do so fails-that’s normally how I travel between. It’s the most common form of transportation on my world, and it didn’t take much doing to figure out how to use it to travel between.  
  
But I cannot do that here. I’ve tested the magic, stretched in the direction it would need to go…and nothing. It doesn’t even FLICKER.” I sighed, dropped my hand. “Without input from other mages, and not the typical ones either, I am afraid I will get nowhere.”  
  
“Is that where you gained your magical training? Your world?”, asked Leliana.  
  
I nodded. “Oh yes. It’s the only other thing that I could do there. There, it’s…it’s a duality which is hard for me to explain. I coexist in two places simultaneously, one called Earth, one, Nilanou. Earth’s Veil is so thick most think magic a myth, though it is not-just invisible and requiring considerable talent to even sense, let alone track. Nilanou has _no_ Veil, and so I took advantage of that to make myself a home that took me away from Earth, so that being a disabled artist and gamer with only paltry skill in singing, if considerable training in magic, was survivable. I’m sure I would have killed myself long ago had I not had that option.” There was a small gasp at my frankness. _So that’s a big deal here. Okay._ “I am too independent, and losing my freedom was too harsh a blow. So…yes. I trained formally in magic for 18 months, and the rest I learned over the next decade from the spirits-which, on Earth-at least in the pagan community when I began my training; it evolves with time-is an umbrella term for ‘everything on the other side of the Veil’, which is _extremely_ diverse.” _Oh Valar, run on sentences. Nooooo, stop babbling, shit shit shit._  
  
I took a shaky breath. “I wish I could show you them. You…I don’t trust any of you yet, I don’t know you well enough, but I can tell that you are, in general, decent enough people. Except maybe Cassandra, and that’s only because she has no anger management. I daresay some elfroot might help with that,” I said dryly, continuing before she could retort. “You would swoon if you ever saw a Mass Relay. They’re these _huge_ machines, floating in space at specific coordinates, that can transport massive ships that can sail the stars hundreds of thousands of miles away. Garrus Vakarian, Thane Krios, Kaiden Alenko…just some of the people I would introduce you to from there. There are worlds for every star, and there are thousands upon thousands of stars…I could not name just one.” I smiled fondly, remembering tangoing with Garrus in the middle of the Normandy.  
  
“And Arda. Great swathes of green, barely any roads except for those that the Elves have made…Elves which are still immortal, from which I am descended. But that you could see Rivendell! It’s a great sweeping place, buildings set into the sides of the cliffs of a great valley, the waterfalls routed to flow through the entire thing, fountains everywhere, fields hidden closeby in which the horses and animals graze, and through it all, the most beautiful music you will _ever_ hear.” After a pause, I added, “If my magic was a disturbance for its color, brightness, or intensity, that is likely why. Starlight runs in my bloodline. My grandfather was Earendil, and when he became a star, the Valar decided that so too would the rest of us of his line.”  
  
I smiled sadly, not wanting to go into too much more detail, and let them absorb what I was saying. The more I talked, the more distant they felt.  
  
“If I could prove it to you, I would. I can try again, to open a rift now, but…they are not expecting it. They’d probably shoot. But if you allow it, and I succeed, I can…send word. Perhaps another attempt will succeed…or, perhaps, they will succeed in coming _here_.” I thought of the snipers on the roof. Only place I know of where everyone was probably already mostly ready… “But…about the rest of what was said…I fail to see how my personal life is any of your business. And I cannot elaborate on anything implied about Solas. I gave him my word as well.”  
  
“You needn’t worry about that, da’len,” he said, offering a halfhearted smile. “I was questioned enough.”  
  
“…Cullen, did you lie to me?”, I asked, quietly. “You said nothing had been done.”  
  
“We did not harm him, Herald,” said Cullen.  
  
“It was implied,” said Leliana simply.  
  
I sighed. Nodded. “Well, then that is moot and my input is not needed.”  
  
“And what of your name?”, asked Leliana.  
  
“Hazel will do,” I said, wearily.  
  
“But is that really your name?”, she pressed.  
  
“No. But it will do as one. I was not lying when I said I remembered nothing. What I omitted was that I was referring _to this world_. I do not know how I got here. I remember nothing of here. I didn’t even know that I’d landed an elven body until I realized I could see in the Fade, and found a mirror.” I was frustrated, not sure what she was getting at. “What are you fishing for?”  
  
“Are you sure we should not refer to you as Virtue?”, she asked, more coldly.  
  
“Oh. I DID forget about them, didn’t I…no, I am not Virtue. I HAVE a name, I simply do NOT wish to use it here,” I finished firmly.  
  
“Will you not tell us what it is?”, asked Cullen, oddly kindly.I looked at him, confused. “Your mood swings are confusing. So are Cassandra’s. I have no idea how to comprehend what triggers what emotion. What I would guess would not stoke anger does, and the reverse as well.” I sighed. “No, I will not. But I will tell you what it means.”  
  
They waited expectantly. “‘Peaceful freedom’,” I finally said. “Peaceful freedom. And if I cannot be sure I will not have it, I will not use a name that means it. I saw brown hair tinged gold in the sunlight, tanned skin, and chocolate eyes in the Fade, so…Hazel will do.”  
  
“And you TRULY expect us to believe that?”, said Josephine in a shockingly cold voice. _Jesus shit she’s still a bard, holy fuck_.  
  
“You can believe what you will. I have no power over that,” I said wearily, “but if you are at all interested in me NOT being an abomination or something equally killable, I have a theory as to what MAY have happened.”  
  
They certainly paid attention to _that_. Solas tensed, however. I rolled my eyes internally. _I’m not going to give you away, doggo, calm down._  
  
“I arrived in the middle of being tortured. This was not long after the Breach, no? I’m assuming you wanted answers and would not wait for them?” At a slow nod from someone’s outline, I continued. “Well. Given how much effort it took to keep me alive, I suspect that whatever put this mark on my hand, the whole ordeal, wore down the spirit of the person who was here. The body also, given how hard it was to stay alive. I suspect the torture finished the job…and I suspect the spirits pulled me in there to keep this body alive, and that one of them-Virtue, they named themself-filled in the gaps so that I was enough. SOMEONE had to be able to close the Breach. Perhaps they agreed with your goal.”  
  
Sensing the disbelief in the utter lack of movement, I continued. “ _I am an elf,_ ” I said with emphasis, ”if not the kind you are accustomed to. It is not uncommon for a soul to fracture in the event of trauma. That can sometimes mean that a part of the soul gets lost, or wanders somewhere, while the rest remains in the original body and recovers. Souls are surprisingly durable things, and regenerate much better than bodies. Sometimes, when that happens, that piece of soul will end up born into another body  
  
“The theory is sound,” said Solas, quietly. “Such had been seen in Arlathan, when the spirits of people were more visible, lacking the Veil to suffocate the senses.”  
  
“And so you think…” Cullen began.  
  
I nodded. “My theory is that whoever this was…” and I gestured at my body, “was part of my soul that broke off in some trauma or another in some lifetime or another-I believe in reincarnation, having seen it before, and I…have been through much. It…is the second time it has happened, both times recently, being shoinked into a body without expecting it. The second time ever, in fact, but…there is precedent. And like here, there, I had amnesia of what came before, with only flashes that ever returned. The difference is that there, before, I was the Herald for long enough to gain trust…and, being a Dreamer there as well as here, was able to get and thus give warning.”  
  
“Maker’s breath,” sighed Cullen. “Even if all this was true, we have no way to prove it, and we can hardly come out and say it.”  
  
“We do not NEED to say it,” said Leliana.  
  
“And we HAVE a way to prove it,” quipped Josephine, “IF Master Solas can provide some assistance in that matter?”  
  
Before he could speak, I interrupted. “I know how to do it. Or, at least, I know how I SHOULD be able to do it. I lack the power, I believe, and the Veil is not one I am familiar with. It is too strong for me to work through, and I cannot understand the pathways. He’s a Dreamer, and thus intimately familiar with how the Veil works…perhaps if I tap into his mana, I can make it work, and as I said-send word. On paper. We have codes in case of capture or mimicry. I will not use the ones that indicate the prior,” I added dryly. “I give you my word. I need only pen and ink.”  
  
Leliana felt increasingly entertained and smug about the entire situation, while Josephine’s emotions indicated extreme aggravation. _I wonder if she is a Crow. Hmm…_  
  
“I do not see why not,” Leliana ventured. Cullen sighed, and I heard his armor clink as his hand made an acquiescing motion. “Go ahead. Write your letter.” He paused, and looked at me sternly. “We had better not regret this.”  
  
I flinched away, despite my best efforts, and nodded. “Of course, Commander.”  
  
Josephine lent me her quill and a piece of parchment, after helping me to grow accustomed to the feel. Magic was all well and good, but sound and touch were still vital to really translate everything. I was used to sight, but touch was really where I thrived.  
  
“How do you see what you are doing? That script is…remarkably graceful, particularly for a blind woman,” she asked, curiously.  
  
“First of all, I’m not a woman. I’m not anything. Either. Whatever.” I dipped the quill in again, and wrote another couple lines. “Secondly…I was afraid to flare my mana too strongly in the village. I did not want to frighten anyone and either cause a riot and/or get killed. Once there was enough space, I could extend my senses as much as I wished without fear of intruding on someone else’s space, and it just…clicked. Suddenly the rest made sense. It is still more difficult in densely populated areas. It’s like…noise? Or a loud garment with clashing colors and patterns? It’s dizzying, and difficult to make sense of. But I can focus on the parchment…it is calm, familiar, simple, and easy to understand.”  
  
I finished my letter, waved some heat over it to dry the ink as Josephine tapped some powder over it, and once it seemed dry, rolled it up. “Does anyone have any wax to seal this with?”, I asked. “I will know, if I can get the seal ring to come through, whether or not this will work at all. Small objects easily hidden like that are easier to get through than big ones, like people or letters, so it is a good start.”  
  
Cullen ducked his head out of the door and murmured something to a nearby guard. Upon closing the door, he said, “We will have some soon. Shall we wait to pour it?”  
  
“Yes. I must try and get my ring. At home, in Nilanou, I have a signet ring specifically for these purposes. Obviously, it did not try and come with me, so it would have automatically been returned to a case for safekeeping, which only my magical signature can unlock. If it works, then it works, and I will know the rest of the spell, per se, to open a doorway for the letter.” I sighed, and sought Solas’ magic with mine. He responded instantly. “I will need your help, Solas.”  
  
His soft footsteps were audible for my benefit, I was sure. “As you wish…Hazel. What do you need?”  
  
“A touch conduit, allowing me to draw from your mana, and patience. I will do the rest. It will take little time, though the wax must be here first.”  
  
As if on command, the door was knocked on. Cullen quirked an eyebrow at me so obviously I raised my hands in silent defense, as he went to answer it and collected the wax.  
  
I took a deep breath. “Alright. Hand on my left shoulder, if you please, Solas, as I have no idea which hands I will need, given the mark is on my secondary one. If the rest of you could please edge the side of the room, this ought not have much of a radius, but I don’t want to unnerve you more than necessary with the feel of it.”  
  
I closed my eyes, and sought out the carved, angled dome lidded wooden ring box that I kept my signet ring in when not in use. Solas’ energy and memories that were carried in his mana gave me what I needed to navigate the Veil, and I felt the mark snap. A small, perfectly oval shaped rift formed above the War Table. I reached out, magically, for my signet ring, and breathed a sigh of relief as the box unlatched and the ring floated towards me, pulled in the stream of my magic.  
  
In one brief motion, I donned the ring, took the wax, melted and dripped it onto the parchment, and then pressed my signet ring into it. The white mana I flooded it with hardened the wax instantly, leaving a frost edge recognizable to my people. With one flick of a finger, the ring returned to the box, and with another, the window changed to show the night sky, and a few barely visible figures lounging around under it. A third flick sent the parchment flying through the portal to smack one of them in the head, and just as they saw the portal, I withdrew sharply and willed it to _shut_. _Please don't shoot through it, please don't shoot through it..._  
  
It closed sharply with a _pop,_ and I slumped, from both the sudden drop of magic, and the effort. I never hit the floor, caught by Solas, who immediately funneled more of his mana into me. _Thank the Valar, no mana crash._  
  
“I don’t believe it,” said Cassandra, awed.  
  
“It…it _worked_!”, exclaimed Josephine.  
  
I mock scowled at her. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.” She only smiled.  
  
“Can you truly blame her? But you were telling the truth, for once, thank the Maker,” Leliana breathed in relief. At my incredulous look, she shrugged, and said, “It would have been too much for the people to be asked to follow an abomination. Are you a spirit healer?”  
  
“I desperately hope so,” I chuckled. “Healing is what I do best, and truly while I _can_ fight-I hope, if my skills from Nilanou follow me here, and not from Earth-I am a pacifist and will not kill unless I _must_. It would be greatly relieving to find out that my abilities are beneficially enhanced.” I offered her a tentative smile, which if her emotions were telling me true, she returned. “Do you know one?”  
  
“I did,” she answered softly. “She passed away before the war began. She was truly remarkable…I was hoping you were like her.” I was startled at the frankness of her answer. _Perhaps she is the softer of the two…Josephine is TERRIFYING_ … _you know what, no, I’m gonna ask her.  
  
_“Lady Josephine?”, I called.  
  
“Mm?”, she replied.  
  
“Are you a Crow?”, I asked, frankly.  
  
There was a brief moment of silence. “….How did you know?”, she asked, slowly.  
  
“Your acting was _on point_ , and no one but an empath would have known, I assure you, but…your emotions contradicted your behavior in ways I have only ever seen before in Antivan Crows on the job. I know a few…none from your world, so far as I know.” I was frank with her, attempting to prove I was no threat. Thankfully it worked, as she chuckled, and abandoned the pretense, with the door closed, surprisingly relaxed. “I will have to work harder to cover that, in the future. Yes, I am a Crow.”  
  
I was going to ask her if she’d known Zevran, and what she knew of him, but then I noticed that Cullen alone had not moved nor spoken. His emotions were indecipherable, of all colors and lashing wild like a storm. All thought of it left my mind.  
  
“Cullen?’, I asked softly.  
  
“I am sorry, Herald,” he said. “After what I’ve-I should have trusted you. Forgive me.” _Was that self loathing, guilt, or sorrow?  
  
_“It’s alright. It was a lot to swallow. Perhaps we can talk more later. I am in need of friends.” I offered him a half smile, and ignored Virtue’s empathic elbow in my side.  
  
He felt startled, but then I could sense his smile. “I would like that.”  
  
Just then, a fritzing sound in the middle of the room made everyone startle. I watched it, confused, until I noticed a surprisingly familiar yellow swirl forming in the middle of the room.  
  
Out of it walked a very tall, very blue, very handsome, crested individual with mandibles flexing in a fashion I could only describe as ‘exasperated’. I could spot a ripple, through the portal, of a familiar red cloak, but my attention was drawn away. Mister Tall And Blue jumped off the table, and slung his sniper rifle over his back. He shifted on his feet, gesturing with his assault rifle, looking around. His eyes settled on me, and he gave a huffing sigh, speaking in his melodic, and yet permanently snarky, fascinatingly nuanced voice. “Now, honey…what have you gotten yourself into _this_ time?”


	8. Visitors And Demons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We say hi to someone, and then between passing out, there's talk about some stuff.
> 
> She still hasn't figured out she's sick yet. Like I said in the tags. "Inquisitor Is Dense."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll format it later. I can't be arsed. This one took too long to write.

“MAKER’S Breath!”, Cullen yelled, pulling his sword. Everyone else in the room followed suit, except me. Me, I tackled him. “GARRUS! Thank the Valar.” He chuckled, and wrapped his loose arm around me, though watching everyone else in the room, I’m sure.  
  
“This is Garrus Vakarian. I told you of him. He will not harm you unless you harm him first. Please. _Please_.” I all but begged them. _I can’t be alone again_. Virtue’s soft presence in my mind was soothing, like a parent would soothe a child. In any other circumstance I would likely find it offensive.  
  
“Honey…you’ve really got to stop making new friends one of these days. They keep trying to kill one of us. It wears.” His lovely drawl. Valar, but I’d missed that.  
  
“It’s not like I CHOSE, you know,” I said, irritated. “Given the drama, if I had a choice, I would have opted out, but I cannot leave. It drained me even to get you the letter.”  
  
He sighed. “I know. I’m sorry. Spirits…what is going on?”  
  
I groaned. “Let’s just…start with introductions. Who’s coming with you? I see Stephen’s cloak, and he obviously opened the portal, so…can I bring them through without you all…trying to kill them?” I looked around the rest of the room, refusing to move away from my Bonded.  
  
“I…” began Cullen, shakily.  
  
“He’s not a demon, he’s Turian. Please? Stephen cannot hold that open forever,” I said, tense with worry. I could already feel Stephen straining. DAMN, this Veil.  
  
“Yes. If they will not cause harm to any here.” Leliana answered.  
  
“Fantastic, because we’re just about out of time,” said Stephen Strange, floating through the portal, as several others climbed through after. “Doctor Stephen Strange, Master of the Mystic Arts.”  
  
I sighed. “Honey. Really?”  
  
“Well, it’s what I am. They should know the full title,” he said, blasé, still circling two fingers in the air to keep the portal open.  
  
“Stephen, no one here is going to use it. You’re just being a sasspants,” I said flatly. “Valar, what time is it…can we…I don’t know, food? Something? I may faint. Garrus, please tell me you brought a bunch.”  
  
“Are you kidding me?” Garrus replied, flat, jerking what passed for his thumb towards his back. I assumed he had a pack on I couldn’t see.  
  
“Garrus, I’m blind here, I can’t see shit except for magic,” I replied, in an identical tone.  
  
“Oh. Uh. Then yes,” he said, sheepishly coughing.

“Good. I wouldn’t want you…to...run out of food.” I trailed off woozily. _Motherfuck._

“Okay, time for bed,” said Stephen. “Right now.”

I heard someone indignantly protest, and “I’m sorry, are _you_ a doctor? No? Then shut up and do what I say.”  
  
And then I was in the Fade. Again. Alone, this time, thank the Valar.  
  
I’m not really super keen on telling you all about EVERY dream I have, especially given bad timing. They’re the only thing that’s mine. I WILL tell you that they were good for a while. Peaceful. I got to wander around my new gardens, play with my fish…I made myself a chaise lounge and a library corner, and read until I slept.  
  
That was a mistake. Letting my mind rest that much. It went straight to nightmares that I found myself exceedingly unable to stop, this time, nor could I surface my mind from them. I don’t know what I was seeing. Tangled things, fears of what might happen mixed with warnings from the spirits, or illusions from demons? I don’t know, but I wish I could wake. It’s hell, none of it’s real, and I wish to return to my lovers. Sometimes I hear their voices, though I’m not sure whether it’s because I drift close to waking or because I dream.

  
The one thing that bothers me is that I cannot find Virtue. And upon that thought, I start to wake.  
  
The first thing I see is the flash of red that is Stephen’s cloak. Not surprising; it’s a relic and soaked with magic. It’s easier to see, just like Solas is. He’s facing away from me, so I groan and try and prop myself up.  
  
“She’s awake!” I dimly register the voice of an elf from next to me. I see a swirl of red and feel the wind from it. In an instant, Stephen’s next to me, checking my vitals with what he has on hand (himself), but I wave him off.  
  
“I’ll find out how in the _nine hells_ the lot of you managed to both avoid cells and get them to let you stay in here without any of them-as well as which of you are here-in a moment. I need Varric, as well as Cullen, if he was a Templar, now. As in _now_. Solas as well. I need to speak to them about Virtue.” I was terse, and then remembered I could drop the act around them. I gave an apologetic face, and added “…Please. It’s important.”

Stephen whirled off and relayed the orders to the guard that was apparently stationed right outside the door.  
  
“Well, that explains why you were allowed in here with us just by ourselves. What is this, house arrest, then?”  
  
I heard a somewhat refined snort, and felt the shifting of an Elf, who seemed stiff-from sitting in the chair next to me? “You could say that,” he said, dryly.  
  
I squinted. “Calenlas? ”  
  
He smiled, pleased. “Mm. I was wondering if you would recognize me. Now, what is all this about?”  
  
I grimaced. How close are they? “I do not think I have the luxury of explaining this twice, but suffice it to say, I start to wonder if Virtue is Virtue. I hope Leliana comes with them. That was the name I couldn’t think of at the time, and if I am right, which I hope I am not, my window is narrow, and the more I am obligated to speak-however pleasant the company-the more difficult this becomes.”  
  
“Thankfully, they’re close, though they’re taking their sweet goddamn time. You going to make it?” He gave me a measured side eye that I recognized as worry.  
  
“I’d damned well better.” I put my head in my hands, rubbing the temples, struggling to focus on something, _anything_ to anchor me.  
  
“Hey,” said Garrus softly. “Come here.” He took my hands, and rubbed circles on the back of them. It helped, and I could feel my breathing slow, as always.  
  
“Herald! How are you…doing…?” Varric bust into my cabin, all pleasantries and smiles, but his mood changed as soon as he saw ours. “What…happened?”  
  
“I need you to tell me about Anders.” Can’t dress up that kind of a statement, so here goes..

“Why do you want to know about Blondie?” …Aaand yep, his mood changed like a lightswitch. Yay.

“He had Justice?” Simple is best, simple is best, simple is best…

“…Still does, so far as I’d heard. He’s not dead. Why do you want to know?”, he asked again, increasingly suspicious.

“Do you think you could send word and expect it to get to him?” _Please don’t freak out, please don’t freak out…_

I could hear the leather creak as he crossed his arms. “I don’t know. _Why do you want to know?_ ”, he enunciated.

“Because I think I need his perspective. Talents. Whatever.”

“You mean as a murderer?” He was harsh.

“Look, I don’t know who you lost on the mountain, but it wasn’t my fucking fault, so it’s about time you figured that out just like Cassandra, unless you two are hatefucking and smack talking me behind my back, which wouldn’t shock me. No. I mean as a spirit healer who desperately wants to remain a spirit healer,” I snapped at him.

“Instead of an abomination,” he finished, relaxing a little, for whatever reason unperturbed by my accusations. “I can respect that. Yeah. I can get word. But…I don’t know how long it would take for him to get it, let alone get HERE.”  
  
“That’s why I asked for Cullen,” I said, setting my face firmly and "looking" down at my hands.

I heard a deep breath and a sharp exhale. “…Oh. Well. I gotta hand it to you, Snips, you have balls.”  
  
I heard a choked laugh from across the room that MUST have been Obi-wan.  
  
“….Snips?”, I asked, ignoring Obi.  
  
“Yeah, Snips, because you’re the snippiest Elf I’ve ever met,” said Varric, sounding puzzled.  
  
“I’ll…maybe explain it to you later. It’s…just later, Varric,” I said lamely, frazzled. He just chuckled.  
  
“Yeah, Curly here looks all distraught. Better get him some smelling salts or he’s gonna swoon.”  
  
He was rewarded with a choked cough and some sputtering from Cullen. “I-no, I just…SHE summoned ME!”, he protested. _I wish I could see the red face._  
  
I offered a weak chuckle. “In any other circumstance, that would be hilarious, but…thing is, I uh. I’m not sure that Virtue is Virtue. Seemed like it at first, but…well, they said that if I needed someone else then they’d trade out with another spirit, right? Seemed legit, and I have several spirit friends so it seems sensible enough. But…” I sighed. “So, not long in, the spirit was…I couldn’t get all the way through, you know? So I prodded around, and I thought Virtue was just…you know, curious. Not maliciously so, just…curious. Then I wondered, is that Curiosity instead? That could explain it...”  
  
“But they would not leave,” finished Solas.  
  
“Oh, hi, you’re here. Good. And. Er. Yes. I thought it was me, you know? I MET Virtue, at least once. I had thought that I wasn’t doing well enough on my own emotions, mastering my own fears-that seemed probable given the flashbacks, do you not think? But now, there’s an active struggle. I’m accustomed to their politics, but this…is not anything I would EVER have agreed to. And I never gave permission. I had a few guesses about why such a thing might have been done, but…it’s too…there’s too much.” I ran my hands over my face, and grabbed my hair, as if to stabilize myself. _Nerves nerves nerves…_ “And…then there’s the fact that VIRTUE kept on trying to set me up with some of you. VIRTUE. Seems like something DESIRE would want to do, doesn’t it?”  
  
“It does,” said Solas quietly.  
  
“I thought as much. And I somehow never managed to keep hold of those thoughts for long.” I felt a few exchanged looks. “I will _not_ lose control of my own mind. I just…I can’t. Is there ANY option? I’d also rather not die…I’d…hoped that there would be a way that Anders could tell whether spirit or…not. And maybe he’d have some other options, or…I don’t know. I suppose I figured if anyone could keep me from being a harm to others, it’s Solas…or Cullen.”

The others were quiet for a moment or few after my tirade.

“I think, da’len, that if you were an abomination, that you would not have so strong a concern about being one,” said Solas. I wished I could _see_ -I had no energy for using magic to do so-because tone is wonderful, but body language says _so much_. Solas ALWAYS sounds either quiet or gentle. It tells me little. Ugh. _Wait. Wait…what?_  
  
I blinked owlishly in his direction. He chuckled. “Tell me. Do you find yourself able to sense the Fade when waking? You are a Dreamer, no?”  
  
“I..yes.” I was STUNNED. “How the hell did you know? We have no term for it, and the Veil is so thick where I come from that no one who can see ANYTHING can tell the difference between planes.”  
  
He chuckled again. “The main cue is the presence of demons where there are none. I think it likely that Virtue DOES exist, and has been attempting to protect you from them. Since I have visited your dreams before, with your permission, I can do so again. If I do so while you are awake, I can perhaps determine who is preying on you during your waking hours.”  
  
“Would that be dangerous for you as well?”, asked Cassandra, cautious. I jumped. Am I really so unaware right now?  
  
“No. I am extremely practiced in avoiding demons, being a Dreamer myself. They will be no threat to me.” He said, simply.  
  
“That’s all well and good, but can you tell us what the hell is even happening? No one else has any idea, Chuckles,” said Varric, leather creaking with his arms folding again.

I heard the slight whoosh of moving fabric as Solas gave him an acquiescing bow, and moved a few paces. This WAS a very small space for so many people. The reason was explained as I smelled the incense still soaked into Stephen’s clothes. His cloak settled around my shoulders, keeping me upright and steady, while Stephen busied himself with something presumably medical. I could feel Solas watching attentively, which was an improvement. I couldn’t sense him two minutes prior.  
  
“In short, Child of the Stone, our Lady Herald-“  
  
“I’m not a Lady”, I said absentmindedly.  
  
“Ser Herald,” Solas said with an audible smile, “seems to have the ability to dream-what any person but a Dwarf does while sleep, what mages do with lucidity, and what Dreamers can _control_ -while _awake_.”  
  
The stunned silence from the Thedosians was punctuated only by the chuckles from a couple of my lovers.  
  
“We all already knew that,” said another elf-Glorfindel, I believe. “She has had that gift her entire life. What of it?”  
  
The scorn in Glorfindel’s voice, combined with the long-suffering sigh from Solas, told me the two of them would be sniping at each other for quite some time. “It means that since she cannot put the whole of her attention on guarding her mind, usually only present during one’s sleep, that her attention is divided. It may make her defenses weak…especially since her mind has suffered trauma. I will go into the Fade, while she is awake, and see what I can do to lay additional defenses.” He had the sound he always does when he strides about with his hands behind his back.

“And trust her safety to _you_? An _apostate?”_ , sneered Cassandra.

“All mages are now apostates, Lady Cassandra, and I suspect someone of my talents would be considerably more helpful to the Herald than someone like yourself,” remarked Solas mildly.  
  
Cassandra sputtered, and at least three of the men in the room groaned audibly at the drama. “Someone like-!”  
  
“Someone who is not adequately in control of their own anger to protect themselves in the Fade...for instance, from something like a rage demon? You could not hope to protect the Herald. And that’s even _if_ you were a Dreamer and thus able.” Solas’ tone was still mild, as if he were discussing the weather, and yet, Cassandra still sputtered. I can’t imagine why, unless she just had an allergy to being wrong, or to being shown up. She didn’t get far, if she tried to pull anything. Not only was there no room in the cabin, but I heard the sounds of subtle movement that implied her way was blocked, by people.

She said no more.

\------------------------

“Honey.” Stephen’s voice was startling, and I realized I’d passed out again. From the chatter I heard, they had been debating my health-not my dreaming; that seemed quite resolved-while I was asleep. I grumbled, and realized that Solas was slumped in my chair. “Is he asleep?”, I asked.  
  
I felt Stephen’s head tilt-still little more than a swirl in the energy around me, like Vincent Van Gogh saw the wind he painted, I guess?-and he asked “You didn’t see him?” I shook my head. “I didn’t even know I’d passed out.” “Hmm. Not good.” He rambled on in more medical jargon no one else in the room understood, largely ignored while he worked (he never cares, unless it’s me).  
  
“But, if it counts, I haven’t noticed anything else, either,” I added. “I had no dreams. Much like when he put me to sleep before. I assume it was a form of anesthesia. So I was safe with that, at least. I wonder if it taxes him?”  
  
“Well, we’ll find out when he wakes up, Snips. And I sent word to Anders. We’ll find out what he thinks soon. But I should warn you, his boyfriend’s a little bit overprotective. I’ve warned him you’re a little uncomfortable around most men, but he’s…not the best listener.”  
  
I groaned. “Well, at least I know. Let me know, if I’m conscious, when you know more, yeah? I need to find out what the hell happened to have all of you in one room and getting along instead of ‘Aah, oh no, demons’, and why the hell Stephen looks like I’m dying, but I honestly don’t think I’m gonna make it that long. Meaning, awake.”  
  
“That would be a pity, as I have quite a great deal to tell you, Hazel,” said Solas.  
  
“Hazel?”, Stephen retorted.  
  
“No need to sound like it’s cat poo, Stephen, it’s what I go by here. I opted to keep my real name to myself,” I replied dryly.  
  
He gave me a silent “Ah,”and went back to whatever he’s been up to at the desk.

Solas chuckled, and continued. “I will make it brief, as I suspect your spirit still needs to recover. I sought out the input of a friend of mine, who it seems we share in common.”  
  
I smiled at him, which he returned. “Wisdom, huh?”  
  


“Indeed. It seems that for the most part, your friends-and some of mine-have been attempting to protect you, to considerable success. The demons preying on you have been driven off, and will not be able to return. The rest of what plagues you is nightmares full of constructs of your own making…not demons.”  
  
“Fabulous. Does that mean I can get back to sleep? The pain DID stop not long before you woke, assuming that was shortly before you spoke.” I strongly suspected I was crosseyed for grogginess, for he chuckled, _again_. “Yes. We can speak more later.”  
  
I nodded, and flopped over again…and then changed my mind, and sat. “Fantastic. Then you can tell me what ELSE has you in such a terribly good mood. And everyone else can tell me how we’re all suddenly getting along. And also who’s here. I’ve only pinned Calenlas, Glorfindel, Garrus, Stephen, and Obi-wan.”  
  
“HOW did you know I was here?”, came Obi-wan’s refined English drawl.  
  
“You laughed at the nickname,” I replied. He only chuckled in response. “Can I have some water? I’d love one of my favorite herbal concoctions, but I don’t have anything to work with, so…water. Then, I really AM sleeping.” I paused, sipping the water I was given. "Solas?"  
  
"Mm?"  
  
"Was it ever actually Virtue?"  
  
"...No, da'len. You were right. It was Desire."  
  
"Of course it was. Am I alone in my mind now?"  
  
"So far as I have been able to tell. We shall see more when Anders arrives, should he have abilities I do not."  
  
"Amazing." I drained the last of the water. "Well, if you ladies and gentlemen will excuse me, I have a date with my pillow, and an obligation to RUIN my hair, unless one of my lovely elven gentlemen wants to do my sleep braids."  
  
I smiled, and settled back to await the Elvish bickering...if I stayed awake long enough.


	9. Can We Actually Get Started?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hint: No. 
> 
> Just a bit of drawling about with Stephen. Then a couple shiny people show up, and there's more PTSD. Content warning time, rape is mentioned, tag references ahoy.

I groaned. “I’ve been in here FOR A WEEK. It’s been almost two weeks since the Inquisition started. I’ve spent nearly all of that either in bed or unconscious, and VALAR know how long I spent unconscious or nearly so before that. This is going nowhere fast. I need to do SOMETHING besides be mostly dead.”   
  
“You can DO THAT when you are NOT mostly dead,” said Stephen, less than patiently after hearing the same complaint a million times that week. He set down what he was making-herbal concoctions, trying to recreate mine the entire time, it turns out-less than softly and turned halfway to glare at me.   
  
I’d been able to wake up maybe a day after I went back to sleep. It wasn’t too much longer-Solas was right, getting Desire out of my waking dreams gave my spirit and mind the chance to recover. I went through three meals worth of food before I was done eating.   
  
In the span of time between then and now, Solas and I had also had a GREAT deal of time, waking and sleeping, to work on honing the magic I used to see…as well as anything else that we could manage with me in a bed. It’s gone rather well-and it’s far less taxing to use magic here, now.   
  
Oh, and I found out how my lovers had managed to talk Cullen and the others into letting them stay with me.   
  
“Turns out, when there’s a giant hole in the sky, nothing make sense, and there are giant demons falling into your backyard, people are willing to believe almost anything,” Garrus had said casually.   
  
“But I thought we were under house arrest,” I had replied.   
  
“I _did_ say ‘almost’.”   
  
So, there’s that.   
  
It turns out that between the good that Varric put of Anders in his book, Leliana’s EXTENSIVE descriptions of Wynne (it HAD been Wynne after all-I asked), and the general reputation of spirit healers as _pretty fucking awesome_ when they aren’t just idiots who got tricked by a demon and ended up an abomination (common enough that it’s crazy rare for anyone to even TRY)…that it wasn’t that hard for anyone to trust me after I WAS proven a spirit healer. Apparently people like me are super valuable? And apparently I still do have the influence of a spirit; Solas had guessed wrong. Just, an ACTUAL spirit. ACTUAL Virtue. We found a way that works way better.   
  
Everyone stopped by to visit, and we actually had a few good chats in between the business (I have business?) and the time I spent with my lovers when they weren’t out being bored, and helping where they could. Varric sometimes would keep me amused with stories and humor (but not too often), Leliana and I would either talk music, shoes, OR death…Cullen and I got used to each other’s chess strategy, and when she could be persuaded to talk about anything calmly, evidently, Cassandra enjoys horses. There was quite the lively discussion between her and Josephine about them, until they were kicked out from noise.   
  
Somewhere in there as well, I told them about the Flowerlands-so named because they’re _incredibly fertile_. I’m not going to get into it here-suffice it to say, that’s not what this story is about-but from what I’d been able to gather, they found the explanation of the place incredibly comforting. You all will know plenty about me without me needing to describe there to you. Maybe in another story. Insert wink here.   
  
The only thing we hadn’t really sorted out were the problems with my health, and Stephen was working on those with the help of others. Stephen was just the only one almost always in my cabin with me. The man’s a literal genius; I figured it wouldn’t be long.   
  
“If I am awake enough to make YOU make THAT FACE due to hearing the complaint that many times, then I am clearly NOT mostly dead,” I pointed out, working on a sketch of him. I’d managed to needle some art supplies out of Josephine during one of her visits.   
  
“Conscious does _not_ mean stable, a fact of which you are well aware. Besides, Anders is going to be here soon, and even if you _were_ better, which you’re not, you’d be stuck in here anyway, because you’re not leaving this room until he clears you for it. And since so far as anyone _else_ is concerned, _including me_ ,” he said when I opened my mouth to protest, “you _are_ still sick, _stay. In. Bed.”_   
  
I groaned. “I need more to do. This is. So. Boring. Aren’t there books? Like, interesting ones? Art is fantastic, but I need VARIETY. You won’t even let me cast! Don’t I at least get something resembling cuddles?”   
  
“No. If I cuddle you, you’ll get handsy, and then I’ll break you, which would probably get me killed. Now, if you find one of these boys around here shiny enough, then maybe you might have an opportunity here LATER, but for NOW, no. Just. No. Stay over there. In bed. Where I’m safe from you and your…”   
  
“Hotness?”, I quipped at him, grinning shamelessly.   
  
“That. Jesus, Kuan Yin and Buddha…” He shook his head, and all but FLEW out of the cabin. I heard something muttered about the apothecary. I was entirely sure it was an excuse. I chuckled smugly.   
  
“The Inquisition DOES have books of some virtue, da’len, but perhaps you favor sadism?”, asked Solas lightly.   
  
I snorted. “It’s all I’m going to get out of them for right now, what am I supposed to do?”   
  
Solas gestured obviously at the sketch in my lap, now as finished as it was going to get.   
  
I scoffed. “Yes, I know, but I need variety. One thing to do is _so_ not enough.”   
  
He chuckled. “Well. I suppose it is a good thing I brought you these.”   
  
A moment later a heavy weight was placed on my lap, and I traced my fingers over them to feel the _utter delight_ of three very heavy books.   
  
“You are a _gem!”_ I squealed in delight, and flipped them open. I promptly frowned. “Well, you’ll have to teach me the script. This is one I do not know. Still. _Books!_ ”   
  
I looked up to find his energy pink with amusement, pleasure, and embarrassment, and chuckled. “I wish you could see how your energy looks right now.   
  
It promptly changed to stormy colors. I laughed. “Not anymore. Oh, Solas, do you know when Anders is expected? And who’s with him, is it Hawke, or…?”   
  
“Did your husband not tell you?”   
  
“He’s not…well, he will be soon enough...no. No, he didn’t. All he said was ‘soon’. I expect the fact that I’ve been going stir crazy, and him just…crazy…didn’t help with that.” I shook my head. “Wait…tell me what?”   
  
I felt the almost-doting smile, and rolled my eyes at him. “Just TELL ME, Solas, don’t ‘da’len’ me, we both know I’m at least as old as you.”   
  
“Oh, I don’t know about that. You look like you could be half his age.” A foreign, and INCREDIBLY sassy voice spoke from my doorway.   
  
I yelped. “HOW did I not sense you there! Valar, don’t DO that, I could have KILLED you!”   
  
Mystery Sasspants just laughed, long and loud, and I got the impression of a thrown back head before I heard creaking armor. Solas was no better, with his quiet amusement and his water at my desk. I flipped him off, earning myself another peal of laughter from Mystery Sasspants. I heard heavy boots across my floor as he strode across the room. I automatically raised my hand to meet the raised one I could dimly sense coming. _Strong grip_.   
  
“Garrett Hawke. Pleasure to meet you.” With those words-obvious lies-he unshrouded his mana. And _shit damn_ was it bright!   
  
“Well, one, holy shit, no wonder you have it shrouded, and two, you’re totally lying. And also, Varric already told me you were overprotective, so I was waiting for some macho thing, but I wasn’t expecting it to be coated in sasspants.”   
  
I took a closer look and squinted. “Wait…no, you’re doing that on purpose. Are you trying to intimidate me or something? You realize that it doesn’t matter what school of magic you happen to specialize in, if I really wanted to kill you, or if you really scared me, I actually might? I don’t want to. Besides, I can sense your boyfriend outside, he hides less well than you.” _Oh shit, nervous babble_.   
  
His pleasant demeanor had slowly melted away into a cold expression, and he leaned down. “I don’t have to try. I already have.” I flinched away, reflexively shoving him away with a barrier, and I felt his eyes widen. _Well, at least THAT surprised him…_   
  
“Do you REALLY think that if I meant him harm Varric would have sent word? At all? Did he at all mention that he was fingering Bianca when I was asking after him, until I explained why? Do you even care?” I felt Solas tense, his magic subtle enough that only I noticed it, and I was grateful for both facts.   
  
“Varric’s judgement has been flawed before. But those facts are why I haven’t killed you. Yet.” His voice was as cold as his mana.   
  
“Then you’ve got worse judgement than you think Varric does, and you’re a shit boyfriend, if you refuse to let him decide for himself. That’s controlling abusive bullshit. I’ve dealt with enough controlling dicks to know.”

He scoffed. “Oh, what, and you’d be SO much more comfortable with him?”   
  
“Yes! He’s a healer! He’s kind! He’s not some shitty liar who can’t even cover the tracks of his own lies in his mana while stepping in on an injured person’s personal space and taking advantage of their weakness like a goddamned blood-drunk coward!”   
  
He reminded me of Cassandra, the way he went unhinged and dove at me. Thankfully, Solas was faster.   
  
“That we came at all, instead of him pulling some fools errand to assassinate you for knowing about me at all, was my idea. It was a compromise. He’s a bit excessive after Kirkwall. A nightmare, to be honest, so it was either let him be a right cunt and step in before he did something stupid, or leave you to either be a threat, or threatened.” A kinder voice interrupted, though it echoed strain of exertion. _Oh. He was faster too, then_. “Maker’s BREATH, Hawke, enough! Don’t kill the woman for being RIGHT!”   
  
THAT shut Hawke down fast enough. He growled, but he melted into the far corner and glowered from there. Given the tightness in my chest and the dead zones at the edges of my vision that would have been blackness had I sight, it’s a good thing, too.   
  
“Now that he’s been muzzled…may I come over there?” I felt gentle tugs of mana at the edge of mine, pulling me back slowly from the edges of it. I gave him the equivalent of a nod with magic, because I couldn’t speak.   
  
He moved slowly, which I appreciated, and sat on the edge of the bed. He continued to push away the dead zones at the corner of my vision, and equally slowly, pushed into my mind to find out why. He sighed, deeply, when he found the answers.   
  
“She’s been raped, Hawke. Tortured. Many times. You must be kind to her.” _Why would he care?_   
  
A soft elvhen curse came from the wall, over Anders’ left shoulder, and Hawke’s energy changed _drastically_. Much less threatening. It wasn’t comforting-the change was too sharp.   
  
“Hawke! Mind your aura. She can see them.”   
  
“Everyone can see them,” he muttered, but acquiesced.   
  
“Now, why am I here again…right, spirit or demon…shhh,” he soothed. “He’s not going to hurt you.”   
  
_But he would have_.   
  
“Yes, but he won’t now. Varric should have told us, he knows Garrett has a soft spot...”   
  
_Didn’t know. Never said. Don’t know anyone.  
  
_He sighed. “That would do it.”   
  
I realized I’d sunk into my head when I found myself curled up on him. The white noise in my head had receded and I realized my face was wet. _He smells like mine does_.   
  
The thought hadn’t even finished before a shockwave of grief ricocheted through the cabin from me and I _lost my shit_. Total waterworks. Bawling. I felt Solas struggle to contain my magic, along with who I assume was the other two men.   
  
Thankfully, I found myself in the Fade soon. It lasted for only long enough for me to see Virtue, before she touched my forehead and it was black again. _This happens way too often._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many PTSD flashbacks. I wonder if they'll ever ease up for her? Gonna get interesting if they don't.
> 
> HOLY SHIT HANDERS. I'm not terribly shocked Hawke ended up purple with a dose of red when he gets overprotective. Purple Hawke is best Hawke. ^^ I might just end up writing a bunch about them. They're fun. :3


	10. New Friends, Still Lonely

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More with Anders and Hawke, and then some Cullen fluff/whump? Whatever.

I came to to Anders sitting next to my bed, reading my journal…or leafing through it, at least, since I doubted he could read Tengwar. I started, tensing at the memory of last I’d seen him, and he snapped it shut.  
  
“Ah! You’re awake!” He DID have a _stellar_ smile, though it seemed tentative. _Too bad he smells monogamous._ “Wonderful.”  
  
I just blinked at him for a moment, not registering and trying to separate him from my husband in my head. _No no no, I CANNOT think about him, he’s on the other side of the blasted Veil…_  
  
His face fell a little, into a half smile. “I know what it’s like to lose someone.”  
  
“He is not dead. I simply cannot get to him.”  
  
“But you said-“  
  
“Nothing I could hear, that’s for certain,” said Hawke, striding up and offering me a blessed distraction in the form of food. I gave him a grateful look, and Anders an apologetic one. I picked at the food I was given, lost in thought. I felt them exchange a look, then Hawke tried again. “Was he doing that mind reading thing again?”  
  
I blinked, and looked over at them. “Oh. Sorry. Yes. I need to have fewer thoughts. It’s odd for anyone to be able to get into my mind at all. Normally my telepathic shields are far better than that.”  
  
“We always thought it was thanks to Justice. Can you not do the same thing?” Hawke seemed a bit unnerved.  
  
“No. And if I can, it’s not because of Virtue-wait, that WAS Virtue, right? Please tell me I’m not a bloody abomination.”  
  
Anders chuckled. “No, thankfully, you are not. As to your thoughts, you let me into them. I need that to happen only once. I can stop, if you wish.”  
  
I considered it. “No…no, so long as you keep whatever you hear to yourself. Including from Hawke, without my permission. You two might be joined at the hip, but those are _my_ thoughts and secrets to share, not yours.”  
  
They seemed uncomfortable. “I…cannot always control it. Long enough and he’s…seemed to pick up on it a little.”  
  
I sighed. “Then so long as you don’t tell him anything he doesn’t pick up on on his own, and so long as you both keep silent about it and don’t go all accusing me of being crazy…no. No need. If I were really that uncomfortable with it, the ‘locks’ would change, per se.” I put the spoon down, and sighed. “I’m sorry. I can’t eat. My family enters into the triple digits, I’m close to every one of them the same, many of them are my children, and now I am alone. I’m…not really in the mood for eating.”  
  
The sympathy radiating from them was masochism at its finest. I saw why they ended up together, but I kept my distance. It would be far too easy to get close to those two. _Too dangerous. They’ll never stay._  
  
They exchanged another look I couldn’t decipher with any sense I possessed.  
  
A polite cough at the doorway interrupted the awkward tension, and they turned to find Cullen at the door. “Am I interrupting?”  
  
After a brief pause, Hawke saved the day again. “No, not at all! Now that she’s awake, Anders and I were just off to get some food. She won’t eat hers. Perhaps you can persuade her to.” He offered another winning smile, as he took my journal from Anders, handed it back to me, and pulled him by the arm out of the cabin. I somehow managed to catch sight-ACTUAL SIGHT-of his ass as he sauntered out of the cabin. I heard a quiet “ _That_ was unkind” from Anders before they left range.  
  
I must’ve been pink, because Cullen chuckled, as he took the seat Anders had freed. “Does it look that nice?”  
  
I groaned, and hide behind a pillow. “Oh, shut up.”  
  
He chuckled, and pried it away from me. “What was that? I couldn’t hear you from behind your shield of embarrassment.”  
  
“I do believe I told you to shut up,” I said, plucking a piece of something that turned out to be sweetmeat from his plate. “Mmmm…tastes better than it smells.”  
  
He chuckled. “I think I liked you better when you couldn’t see.”  
  
“Why, how much did you get away with when I couldn’t tell what people’s faces wore?”, I asked, mock incredulous. I was rewarded by a sputter, and I laughed.  
  
“Are you going to tell me what all that was about?”, he asked gently.  
  
I sighed. It was easier with the two of them out of the room. “One of the husbands I left behind in the Flowerlands is one of his parallels. He smells eerily similar to him, and before I slept, I kind of…lost it? They’re being…very kind. Odd. They don’t even know me. But I couldn’t quite shake the sadness.”  
  
He chuckled again. _Hooray, I’m funny today._ “Is it _really_ so strange that people are kind to you?”  
  
“Yes! Why would anyone? I’m an elf, I’m a mage, I’ve got a great green vagina on my hand, I’ve got a raging case of PTSD that I can’t seem to get a handle on no matter the GLARING necessity, and half the world if not most of it still thinks I killed the Divine. Most of these traits tend to overshadow any others I might have, Cullen.”  
  
His growing amusement finally bubbled over into laughter. “I believe you have the wrong impression of a great deal, Hazel.”  
  
“Oh, is that so?”  
  
“Quite! If you paid a little more attention and doubted a little less, you’d see it soon enough.”  
  
“I think you overestimate my powers of observation,” I said sarcastically.  
  
“THAT I can believe,” said Hawke. Cheeky shit.  
  
I startled, and looked around, not having sensed him.  
  
“Hazel?” Cullen looked concerned.  
  
“Did Hawke return? I heard him just now,” I said, disorientation lacing my tone.  
  
“…No,” Cullen sounded unnerved.  
  
“Ah. ...Shit. No, this is…just…words in the mind. Party trick. We’re in the tavern.” He sounded INCREDIBLY sheepish.  
  
“Ah. Nevermind. He’s a telepath, being sneaky from the tavern-or, they can simply hear me think from there-and I overheard one of his quips. That’s new.” I blinked in surprise. Noting Cullen’s remaining concern, I added, “I promise, it’s him. He’s too obvious to miss. Did Anders tell you that apparently I am indeed NOT an abomination, when I was out?”  
  
“He did,” said Cullen, tension receding and amusement growing.  
  
“I highly doubt that changed since we began speaking, Cullen,” I pointed out. I frowned at the bowl, picking at it again.  
  
“What is it?”, he asked.  
  
I squirmed, embarrassed. “It’s just…I’m touch starved. Most of the men of mine that came through, excepting Garrus and Stephen, are accustomed to a different dynamic and to less touch than either of us would prefer. I highly doubt they’ll be here for very long. And they’re tense beyond their control, because this isn’t their world.” I sighed, put down the spoon again, and looked at him.  
  
“Would it be inappropriate to ask you for…well, in my world, they’re termed ‘cuddles’, but the word sounds childish and I’d prefer another.” My face was quite red, I’m sure.  
  
“I…no, no, not…not at all. And they are, um, called that here too,” stammered Cullen.  
  
I sighed. “If it’s that uncomfortable, I’ll wait until one of my men deigns to grace me with their presence. Don’t worry about it. Maybe we can talk later, if you’re not too busy. Just…can you put this on the desk, please, on your way out? I’m afraid I’m terrible company and I’d like to be morose without obligation of social standards.” I turned over, facing the wall, and curled up to go back to the Fade. I jumped when I heard a loud, metallic thunk, however.  
  
I turned halfway over. “What the-“  
  
“Heavy plate doesn’t make physical affection very comfortable, I’ve found,” he answered, somewhat wry, if a little nervous.  
  
“Cullen, if you-“  
  
“My friend needs comfort. I would be remiss in my duties as her friend to deprive her of it out of…shyness.” _I could swear I heard him call himself childish. Huh. Note for later..  
  
_ “I…alright,” My voice was very small. “Do you need help?”  
  
He chuckled. “I’m familiar enough with the process at this point, I think.”  
  
A few metallic clinks later, and the soft rustle of a cloak hung on a chair, and he tentatively squirmed onto the bed. _Well. SOMEONE’S a masochist_.  
  
I shrugged internally, then turned back over, stretching a hand to try and figure out where he was without feeling him up. _He wouldn’t mind. It wouldn’t be rude_.  
  
 _I thought you weren’t supposed to be setting me up with people_ , I sassed them. _  
  
I’m not. Your concerns were also of virtue,_ Virtue replied. I grumbled, but said nothing.  
  
Cullen saved me the time. He took my hand and tugged. A muffled “oomph” was his reward, echoed in some surprising smugness in his aura. _That is the weirdest color…how do I even DESCRIBE that?_ Oh well, smug has a color, there you go.  
  
He’s surprisingly comfortable. I suppose I expected him to be as unforgiving and tense as he looks in his armor, but then…heavy plate doesn’t allow much for flexibility. I’ll never know how people manage to be fluid in it.  
  
I relaxed almost immediately. His scent was different enough that I didn’t have the problems that I did with Anders. No memories of loss I was trying to hold at bay out of fear that I’d never see them again. _Bad Jedi_. No awkward tension. _For you, anyway_ , reminded Virtue. I suppose I should be more attentive to what I ask of him, if Virtue thinks it’s awkward for him and important enough to mention. Can he not say no? Should I take responsibility for anticipating that? I don’t want to be rude. Especially if he’d feel shitty for holding his ground. _Shit_.  
  
He started stroking my hair. He said nothing. Just the hair. That was surprising. Hair’s a big deal to the Quendi-er, Elves of Arda, you know....Middle Earth? At least the one I come from. You don’t let people who are family, by choice or blood, touch your hair. I chose to ignore the fact that I didn’t mind. It made the pain-not physical pain, I mean an internal screaming around the center of my chest from sheer _loneliness-_ stop. Whether or not I otherwise would have-and that line’s pretty grey, thanks, argh-I just…nope. Couldn’t help it.  
  
It was the first time since I’d been there that I’d fallen asleep peacefully, without a sleep spell needed.


	11. A Decision And A Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty sure I'm dividing these up by pauses and word count at this point.
> 
> Hazel makes a decision, and some people leave.

As it turned out, I’d only slept for a couple hours. Just a nap, but it felt like an entire night.  
  
“Good afternoon,” said Cullen. I yawn loudly when not mostly dead. The man has ears. “I had food brought for you. I’m unsure whether or not your Sera poisoned it, though,” he added dryly.  
  
“Nah, she likes me too much. I’m a sasspants.” I grinned at him.  
  
“That you are,” he laughed.  
  
“You don’t have work to do?”, I asked. “I appreciate you staying with me more than you likely know, but I don’t want to overtax you.”  
  
“I do, but I’ve been easily able to do it here. Stephen said that my presence was 'helpful', when he came back in. In truth, your cabin is a welcome relief to my tent. I’m less interrupted than I am there, and Cassandra can handle the training of the recruits quite well.”  
  
I laughed. “Oh, I’m sure. No one wants a spell to the face.”  
  
“Indeed,” he chuckled, but he sounded distracted.  
  
“Do you mind if I sketch you?”, I asked. “You look like you’re not finished, and it would give me something to do _besides_ talk your ear off. Also, you’re a new victim. Stephen I’ve done about ten times, Solas refuses to let me sketch him thus far, Sera makes a poor subject because she won’t stop squirming…”  
  
He flushed. “I, er, of course! By all means.”  
  
I smirked, and floated my art supplies to me. _No Stephen in the room to bitch at me for it this time!_ I thought smugly. _Unless he heard that. Then I’m boned._  
  
For a while, we sat like that. I’m not sure how long, but based on the sun, I’d say a few hours. I’d gotten at least three done of him, actually, not just one. There was a profile portrait, a shot of him at the desk as if taken as a photo from where I lay, and then there was a not quite full on portrait from when he’d stood up to stretch. Somewhere in there, Cullen remembered the food he’d had brought for me, and he’d turned quite pink when he brought it over. I think he likes the sketches.  
  
I ate in between working on a fourth, this one a one quarter profile of him. The afternoon light made for a rather striking dichotomy.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
“Oh,” I said out of nowhere. It was the first time I’d said anything since, barring thanking him for bringing me the bowl.  
  
“What?”, said Cullen.  
  
I put down my spoon and turned towards him. “I realized why it’s so blasted difficult to get back in my head, especially now that I’m awake. It’s not because blah blah demon shit-not after Solas and I figured out how to work together in a way that WORKED. It’s because I’m not treating the place like a bilocation.”  
  
“That seems unlikely, da’len,” said Solas, entering the cabin. I smiled at him, despite being deep in thought. I have a bit of a single track mind when I really get on a topic.  
  
“I know, but…here’s the thing. It’s…a thing, for me. You know, Flowerlands side. If I haven’t really decided whether or not I’m invested in a place, my spirit often has a hard time sticking…in the place in question. In here, and the other place like here-hell, in the FLOWERLANDS-the bodies in question. It’s not even supposed to happen, that kind of thing is supposed to be incredibly bad for sanity, but I have a talent for it. I suppose it’s why I ended up with the life I did. But anyway…in my experience, that leaves a lot of holes. Makes it hard to…do _anything_ , really…and there are obvious dangers that you two are fairly familiar with, even though Virtue-and you, now, Solas-protect me from a lot of those.”  
  
The two men paused.  
  
“You have not decided if you are to stay?”, asked Solas, finally.  
  
 _THAT’S what he’s worried about?_ “It’s not that. I know I’m stuck here until the end of the war, and I’m committed to that. What I’m not committed to is Thedas. I figured I’d do my job and then…maybe leave. I have no one here to stay for. People I get on with quite well, but no one who’s expressed any desire for me to stay beyond the professional.”  
  
Cullen coughed quietly, and there was a WAVE of eyeroll from Solas.  
  
“What? What was that for?”, I asked indignantly, now a little more aware of their nuances…if not what they mean. Social cues aren’t my strength, okay? Shush.  
  
“Nothing, Hazel. Please continue.”  
  
“Solas, I’d find that easier to do if you weren’t somehow marrying the tone one uses with an idiot child with the tone one uses when one watches a puppy being kicked. I am neither.”  
  
He sighed, but said no more, so I continued. “Simply put, I haven’t decided to stay _afterwards_. At present, it’s hell for me. I’m separated from everyone and everything and everywhere I love. I am obligated, once well enough, to fight, kill, and risk my life, away from all of them. I deal with this beaten about the face head and neck by hatred and discrimination, which I can feel and see, not that anyone believes me…it’s not exactly an easy decision to make." I sighed, and took a breath.  
  
"Treating it like a bilocation implies that I either choose or run strong risk of permanence. It means that if this body dies, a part of me dies with it. It means that if I trust the wrong people, if I choose the wrong people for friends, that it’ll hurt many times more than it otherwise would’ve. It seems to be a necessary thing, and yet…”  
  
I sighed AGAIN (I do that a great deal, I think it's my Cassandra Noise) and rubbed my face, fighting back tears. “I could lose everything for people I do not know. I can’t NOT, and yet.”  
  
I felt a hand on my shoulder, quiet, comforting. “How can you be so perceptive about so much, and have _no_ idea when people love you?” Alright, not Solas, Solas was across the room saying that.  
  
I scoffed. “Please. I’ve been here three weeks. People don’t fall in love in that time.”  
  
He sighed, and said nothing again.  
  
“Herald-“  
  
“HAZEL, Cullen.”  
  
“…Hazel. No one is asking you to-“  
  
“Oh, you did. And I agreed. My personal…code of honor, I believe you call it, demands I do what I can. I can’t just…leave people to die. I’m just explaining why it is difficult to stay. Besides, what else would I do? My body can't leave Thedas.”  
  
“Did you not say this situation has happened before? What of then?”, Solas asked.  
  
“Then, I came in a good way through history. Perhaps the equivalent of several months from now. Haven fell, as I am afraid it will here-I want to have escape routes and supplies in place just in case, especially as it’s wise even without that-and I arrived just before she was found. She had time for friendship, bonds to be made, and…it was only a very brief amount of time before we arrived at a fortress high up in the mountains. There, the Veil, which was FAR too thick and had to be thinned in the end lest it choke the world and kill off magic entirely, was already thinner. I was thus able to more easily stretch between. There was less pain on both ends of the line…though it was a very difficult thing for some time.”  
  
I shuddered, and straightened.  
  
“No. The situation here is entirely different. And the Veil here is so much worse. I can think of literally no way to make it less suffocating here but to thin it. It _must_ be thinned. And the great gaping hole in the sky shows exactly how well attempts to do THAT can go, so it’s not exactly like I can just tap on the Veil, get a read on it-which I couldn’t do without Solas’ help anyway, abnormal-and say ‘yes, this is exactly the solution’. No. I can do nothing but REPAIR it, so far as I know, and…” I looked at my left hand. “That’s probably a good thing.”  
  
I sighed.  
  
“I’m sorry. Thank you for listening to me rant. I’ve already made my decision, I’m already working on it, and it will not get any easier. Especially since my lovers will need to return home. They have lives and children-grandchildren, in the cases of some of the Elves-and they cannot stay, no matter how much I wish they could. Many have other significant others as well, who need them more than normal, given that I am busy here.” I sighed, and leaned back in my pillows, trying not to cry. “Well. I must tell them goodbye. Remind me to tell you more about Haven falling later, just in case.”  
  
Stephen came up to the side of the bed, after a few breaths. Either he’d felt it, he’d seen it (bloody time stone), or Solas had gone to get him. No idea which. “So. Finally did it, mm?” He wasn’t unkind. He knew exactly the price.  
  
I laughed shakily. “I suppose. You’ll be going soon, I assume?”  
  
He gave a half smile, stroking my hair, and I saw the swirl of a energy that indicated a nod. “As soon as everyone is ready, yes. They’ll come to say goodbye as well, of course.”  
  
I said nothing, not trusting myself not to cry.  
  
He handed me my fan, that looks so like Kuan Yin’s. “Here. You’ll need this.”  
  
I looked at it incredulously. “And separate the two of them? They’d die.”  
  
He chuckled softly. “They’ll live. More than you will without this, at least.”  
  
I leaned my head on him. “You and that stone.” I sighed. “Alright, you win. But I can’t keep her here forever. Eventually she has to go back.”  
  
“When she does, so do you,” he said. He kissed me, and leaned his forehead on mine for a while.  
  
Everyone else took their turns saying goodbye after that. I really don’t have the heart to go into detail about it. There were a lot of tears from me. There were a few from them. Garrus took the most time. He’s a softie…he has the hardest time with things like that. It felt like my heart got torn out of my chest, several times over.  
  
Once they were gone I was left blessedly alone. I cried myself to sleep, and shut down my dreams for the evening. I didn’t want visitors…or dreams. I learned how to turn OFF Dreaming as well as to turn it on a long time ago. Good Valar damned thing I got that nice nap in earlier, because this shit’s balls.


	12. Fun With Fans, part one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After so much dialogue and drama and sadface and such, I'm glad Hazel is finally allowed to get up and do something interesting.

“You know, that looks like a Rivaini fan,” said Varric, with his mouth full of food. He’d been rather more friendly to me ever since Anders and Hawke showed up. Especially with Hawke shadowing me like some guard dog puppy.  
  
I sat across the table from him, flipping it around as much as space allowed. I’d finally been allowed up after all that, and I was _hungry_. Not just for food, but food was a good start, so, tavern it was. Especially since I was done feeling sorry for myself. We were talking about my fan…I’m pretty sure as a distraction, though he’d never out and say it. For my sake, I’m sure, because as gruff as he was when I met him, the man has a big heart. He also _just might_ thrive on attention.  
  
“Mmm. It’s not. It’s better.” I allowed a sly smirk on my face.  
  
He chuckled. “Don’t let Isabella ever hear you say that.”  
  
“Mm, why not?”, I asked. “I daresay I’ve got more dueling experience than she does.”  
  
He whistled, low. “You say that now, but have you ever dueled a pirate, Snips?”  
  
“Mm-hmm, several,” I replied, still only paying half attention.  
  
“Ever _won_?” he asked, skeptically.  
  
“Almost every time, unless they’ve managed to flirt me into a corner. That only ever worked once for any of them,” I replied.  
  
“If you’d REALLY fought a pirate, either you’d be dead, or they would.”  
  
“Not so, that’s only if they’re fighting to the death, which not every duel-whether or not it’s with a pirate-is for. As it happens, I’ve fought a number in the sparring ring, and a number in actual combat, and won every one of the latter.”  
  
There was a slight pause of surprise. “…Well. Maybe you WOULD stand a chance.”  
  
I rolled my eyes. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”  
  
He chuckled. “You’ve never met Isabella. So, what is it?”  
  
I looked at him, then, a bit of a bitch please. “It’s a fan, Varric. What do you think it does?” I waved it at him mockingly.  
  
He held up his hands, laughing. “Hey, it’s an honest question! Some fans are meant to slice throats as well as air.”  
  
“No shit, really? Sweet, that answers one thing about this one. She does that.”  
  
“See?”, he said triumphantly.  
  
“BUT,” I said pointedly, “The reason that Stephen left her with me is because she is enchanted, per se…to banish malicious spirits.”  
  
His silence was long enough to suggest confusion, so I elaborated. “Demons?”  
  
“OHH-wait, that thing can banish demons?” He sounded INCREDIBLY interested.  
  
“Mm, Stephen seems to believe it will, and he’s rarely wrong. And when he is, I’m usually not. And when we’re BOTH wrong…Reylin usually has it right. It could be VERY helpful.” I paused a bit, running my fingers over the embroidery, tracing cranes and lotuses. “And even if it doesn’t, it’s all I’ve got of him right now.”  
  
I snapped it shut, earning a few eyebrows from the near vicinity, and grinned at Varric. “But that doesn’t mean that it’s not a durable thing. It’s much sturdier than it looks, and I bet I could conjure a mate out of mana to use. Fans are best wielded in pairs. I’ve been on my ass for WEEKS, think they’d let me try and train? Or do you think I should go snap up a horse before someone else does? No idea if we even have any.”  
  
He chuckled. “Well, we’re supposed to go get some from Redcliffe soon. ‘As soon as you were up and ready’, said Curly, but you didn’t hear it from me. I think they wanted to tell you in some big fancy meeting at the giant tree table.”  
  
I chuckled. “Hey, I’ve had a good feel copped of that table. It’s a damn nice table. I wouldn’t mind a giant map table. I fucking _love_ maps. Nngh.”  
  
“Mental note taken for your birthday. But anyway, no one gets their own horse until we get more, from what I hear.”  
  
“Why would you care about horses, Varric? Don’t you hate them?”, I interjected.  
  
“It’s made for a lot of whining, now calm down and let me finish, Snips,” he said with an exasperated chuckle. “I was going to say, if you want to train, why not just go ask Curly if he’s got anyone? I think you’d either break that fan or yourself if you went against him with it.”  
  
I snorted. “Please, if I were going to go against Cullen, I’d grab a pair of long knives or a reinforced quarterstaff, not the fan. But that’s beside the point. I’m doing it, you have no idea how _bored I’ve been_.” I shoveled the rest of my food in my face, waved and thanked Flissa (and left a coin under the bowl for her, please no one else steal it that would be rude), and wove through the other patrons out the door.  
  
“I might have an idea,” Varric muttered, scrambling for Bianca and following.  
  
  
~~~  
  
  
Once outside, I deftly jumped up on the low stone walls bordering the path past the Chantry. I’d specifically chosen the back door for this reason. I could feel Solas’ incredulous stare from where he sat reading outside his cabin, which it seemed he did quite a good deal of.  
  
“You’re a lot better at not falling over than you used to be,” remarked Varric, watching trepidatiously.  
  
“I had a lot of time to hone that when I was in the cabin. I chose to focus on the tactile, for the sake of mobility, since I have other senses to supplement with vision when it comes to people.” I carefully picked my way over a few loose stones on the further part of the wall, not far from the Quartermaster, Threnn (she’s just as callous in real life as in the game, sadly). “I opted to hone my empathic abilities, and my reading of others’ auras-as well as whatever odd textural things I seem to be able to understand body language with-for that. It’s a surprisingly complex way of understanding people….not like it leaves me much more easily able to understand them than I was before, I admit.”  
  
“I’m pretty sure you weren’t skipping over rock walls in your cabin, Snips.”  
  
“Oh, I wasn’t. I wanted to see if what I’d developed in the cabin would work for walking and maneuvering around people and things in more detail.” I grinned at him and backflipped off the end of the wall for good measure. There were a few gasps and a couple amused claps I was _pretty sure_ were from Hawke and/or Anders. And Varric. I got a slow clap from Varric.  
  
“Fantastic. Very clever. But what if you’d fallen and broken your neck?”  
  
“I’m blind, Varric, not the age of three. I also happen to be an _excellent_ healer,” I retorted.  
  
“What, of broken necks?”, he sassed.  
  
“Perhaps,” I said noncommittally, tossing a cheeky grin over my shoulder. “Now, let’s see if Cullen’s facing away from the gates so I can try and sneak up on his ass.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the combat style was largely inspired by a much faster version of tai chi and kung fu videos in which fans are used...except as war fans, a la martial arts movies, which may or may not be realistic in type. Works for this though! I had it in my head that perhaps Rivain can be more like Japan or China, though that's definitely not the common opinion in the fandom, to my knowledge. Hell, in other headcanons, I've imagined it as Portugal or New Zealand, and the Qunari like anything from the Maori to the Japanese a la Bushido. So who knows, depends on the headcanon. In this one, it's eastern asia (but not the eastern asia that insists on pale being the only awesome).

**Author's Note:**

> Reminder not to be a dick in comments! Anything, especially questions, is welcome except dickery. Thanks!


End file.
